


Never Believe It's Not So

by TajaReyul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: charlieficathon, F/M, First Time, Het
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TajaReyul/pseuds/TajaReyul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie accidentally Apparates to the States where he has to rely on the kindness of a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can Do Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Charlieficathon on LJ, for the prompt "How exactly do you go about introducing your Muggle lover to a family who can't even do the washing up without magic? Make her a larger lady."

_I hold you tight, the rain disappears._  
_Who would believe it?_  
_With a word you dry my tears._  
_You can do magic._  
_You can have anything that you desire. ~~~ "You Can Do Magic", America_

Charlie popped into existence in the middle of a parking lot. He looked around in some confusion as it was a rather public location, not where he was aiming to go at all. A car honked at him and he moved out of the driver's way.

“Excuse me, sir, are you okay?” a young brunette asked him. Why couldn't he have almost landed on a fit bird like her when he took his Apparition test the first time? She was tall and sturdy and held her shopping trolley in front of herself like a shield. She spoke with a noticeable North American accent.

Great Merlin, he had Apparated all the way to Canada! 

“Are you lost?” She was beginning to give him worried looks alternated with glances around. _For help_ , he realised.

“I think I may be.” He smiled, trying to sound charming. “Where in Canada am I?”

“This isn't Canada, it's America. Canada's about three hours that way,” she pointed behind him and to his left. “Maybe four, depending on traffic. Have you been wandering around long?”

“I must have been. So, where am I?”

“Cleveland.” After a pause, she elaborated, “Ohio.” When he continued to stare at her blankly, she sighed. “You really are a long way from home, aren't you? I can drive you to the bus station or the train station, whichever. Maybe if you explain that you fell asleep and missed your stop...”

How the hell had he Apparated all the way to the States? That shouldn't even be possible, not that populated areas of Canada were any more likely. And how the hell was he going to get home?

The woman was talking to herself now, “...probably regret this.” She gave him a hard, assessing look. Of him, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Erm, I suppose so.”

“I'll feed you if you want to come home with me." After a pause only lone enough to take a breath, she rushed on. "No, probably not. Do you want me to drive you to a restaurant?”

“If you don't mind, I think I'd like to go with you. I haven't any money, you see.”

“Oh my god, did you leave your luggage on the bus? We can call and find out where you can pick your stuff up.” She pushed her trolley ahead of her, obviously expecting him to follow. Not knowing what else to do, he did so, noticing the view was just as good from this angle.

She stopped at one of the cars which had seen better days. There was a crack across the windscreen, a big dent in the boot lid and some rust spots along the bottom of the door. Holding on to the front of her trolley, she unlocked the door and opened it, beginning to unload her groceries into the back seat.

“Here, let me do that,” Charlie offered belatedly. This close, he could see she towered over him by almost a head. Her scent teased him, subtle and sweet.

“Oh, okay.”

He shrugged an apology. “I should earn my board somehow. Though this seems an inadequate thanks for your offer.”

“Well, I have the honor of my country to uphold. My mother would--” she broke off, swallowing and blinking. “Sorry,” she choked out. “Just...just get in the car.”

He did as she said. She walked her trolley over to the corral designed to hold it. Charlie watched her come back, wiping at her eyes. For such a big woman, she suddenly looked fragile and oh, so young. She stood outside the car for a little while, obviously getting herself under control. When she finally opened her door and got in, she apologised again, “You're probably thinking that I'm some kind of crazy person.”

“I'm not. Did you lose your mum recently?” he guessed.

She nodded, not looking at him. “My whole family. God, I'm a mess.” She tipped her head back, blinking rapidly and sniffling.

“You are not. Here,” he dug in his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, offering it to her.

“Thank you.” She took it from him to mop her face.

To ease the tension, he said, “My name's Charlie. Weasley. Charlie Weasley.”

She hiccoughed and wiped her hand on her trousers. Holding it out for him to shake, she said, “Pleased to meet you Charlie. I'm Iris Donovan.” Her grip was firm. Charlie felt like he'd been hit by a small lighting bolt. She smiled at him, tentatively at first, but then when he grinned back, more confidently. “Buckle up and let's get going.” She gave his handkerchief back, and then reached over her shoulder, grabbed a strap hanging there and pulled it across her body, fastening it into something near her right hip. “You have to wear your seatbelt here, it's the law,” she said when he looked at her in confusion.

Charlie glanced over his right shoulder where a similar strap hung. He spooled it out and, looking down by his own hip, tried to see how he should fasten it.

“Here,” she reached over and took the strap in her left hand. “There's a buckle. It probably slid down. Look to your right and down.”

“This?” He grabbed the plastic and metal tab and slid it up the strap. She took it from him and pushed the tab into the slot designed to take it with a click.

“Is that comfortable?”

“Not really. It feels like I'm tied up.”

“I'm sorry. It really is the law here. My apartment isn't far.”

“It's all right.” He always wondered what those straps were for in his dad's car. Muggles were weird, though. Imagine not having charms to keep you from flying off the end of your broomstick when you made a sudden stop.

Iris piloted her car with care, looking behind them as she reversed it out of the space. She looked both ways at each intersection, used her indicators and slowed and accelerated smoothly. The process appeared horribly complex to Charlie, but Iris was apparently well used to operating her car. She pulled into another parking space in front of a large block of flats and silenced the car's growl with a turn of her key.

Charlie looked down, trying to see how to release the strap holding him in his seat. Iris reached down and pressed a button, releasing it for him. “Come on,” she opened her door and got out. Opening the door behind her seat, she started gathering up the bags of groceries. He scrambled out and around to take some of the bags from her. “This way,” she said, marching up to a door on the front of the block of flats. He held the door for her, followed her up the stairs and down a short corridor. 

She unlocked another door. “Here we are,” she said, flicking a switch on the wall and illuminating the big room. “It's not much, but it's home. At least for a little while longer, anyway. Just put the bags on the floor. I need the bathroom first and then you can have it if you need it.” She dropped her keys on a small table near the door and moved further into her flat, going into another room and closing the door behind herself.

Setting the bags down on the floor as she'd instructed, Charlie closed the front door behind him and surveyed his surroundings. There didn't seem to be a Floo or even a Muggle fireplace. The furniture was fairly standard, but the objects on the desk were a mystery to him. For that matter, some of the items on the counter in the kitchen were equally unfamiliar. Iris came back, saying, “The bathroom is yours if you need it.”

“I'm good for now. Do you want help putting these away?” He toed one bag.

“No, I've got it. I know where everything goes. Do you know if the bus line you were traveling on has a twenty-four hour hotline? Or were you on Amtrak?”

“I...wasn't on a bus or this Amtrak, whatever that is,” he admitted reluctantly.

“It's the national passenger train system. How did you get here from Canada, then? Were you hitchhiking? That's not really safe, you know, not even for a man.”

“Erm, no. It's sort of complicated.”

Iris backed slowly away from him, a frightened expression on her face. “Please tell me you're not an escaped convict.”

“No, I'm not,” he held up his hands. “You're not in any danger from me. It's rather a long story. Do you want to put your perishables away before I explain?”

Iris glanced down at the pound of butter in her hands. “Okay. Just sit down in there and don't move.”

Charlie sank obediently down into a rocking chair which creaked ominously as he sat in it. The noise didn't seem to bother Iris, so he relaxed and tried to figure out how he was going to explain his situation. He couldn't see any way around violating the Statue of Secrecy.

She bustled about in her tiny kitchen, putting boxes, bags and cans away. He tried to appear harmless whenever she glanced his way. Finally, she finished putting her food away and came into the sitting room area. She pulled a rolling chair away from the desk and sat in it, folding her arms across her generous bosom in a gesture that she probably intended to be intimidating. Charlie recognized her posture as defensive, though.

“So, explain,” she invited with a sharp little nod.

“This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out.” He paused until she nodded again. “I'm a wizard. I traveled here by—well, by magical means, only something went wrong and I didn't end up where I'd planned to go.”

“You're a wizard.”

“Yes.”

“And you were traveling by magic.”

“Essentially, yes.”

“And you screwed up—somehow,” she made vague motions with her hands, “and ended up here instead of where you wanted to go.”

“Yes. I have no idea what I did wrong. It shouldn't have even been possible to Apparate from England to the States.”

“Did you say Apparate?” Her voice climbed in pitch, conveying her disbelief.

“Erm, yes,” his ears went red and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “That's what the magical process is called. Apparition.”

She nodded. “And you were where, in England?”

“Ottery St. Catchpole, at my parents' house. It's in Devon.”

“Devon is in the south part of England, right? Sort of west of London?”

“West and south, yes.”

“Where did you mean to go?”

“London.”

She nodded once more.

“You're taking this very calmly,” he observed.

“I'm just trying to figure out which one of us is insane.”

“Neither one, I hope. I mean, I know I'm not insane although I don't have any way to prove that to you except...” Charlie gave her a contemplative stare.

“What?”

For an answer, he pulled his wand out of his wrist sheath, flicked it sharply, saying, _“Lumos.”_ Bright light flared from the tip.

Iris fell out of her chair and scooted backwards on her bum, away from him. “How,” she swallowed, “how did you do that?”

He flicked his wand again, saying, _“Nox.”_ The light snuffed out. “I told you. Magic.” He pointed his wand at a trinket sitting on top of a set of bookshelves. He made a motion like the start of a joined-up letter 'I', dotted it and said, _“Wingardium leviosa.”_ The glass dragon lifted off the surface and hovered in the air.

“Oh, be careful with that,” she scrambled to her feet, rushed over to pluck her treasure out of the air and reverently set it back down.

Now that Charlie looked around the room properly, he saw she had several dragons decorating her living space. This bird was all right for a Muggle.

“So, you believe me?”

“That you're not crazy? I probably shouldn't, but yes. The jury's still out on me, though.”

“You're not crazy, either. I think you're a compassionate young woman and this is a horrible way for me to repay your hospitality.”

“Hospitality,” Iris echoed. “I offered to feed you, didn't I? Do you have any special dietary requirements I need to know about?”

“I don't think so.”

“No food allergies or religious strictures?”

He shook his head.

“Do you like spicy food?”

“The hotter, the better.” He smiled to reassure her.

Iris walked the few steps into her kitchen area, flicking another switch on the wall, lighting that part of the room.

“Do you want some help?”

“No, I've got this. I'm sorry I don't have a TV for you to watch.”

“Miss Donovan, I don't even know what a teevee is.”

“Television? No? Do you have a computer?”

“I don't know what that is, either.”

“That's a computer,” she came back and pointed at a black appliance on her desk. “It's a laptop version, but it does everything that a desktop does.” She pushed something on the part that rested flat on the desk and the upright part lit up. A word he didn't recognize appeared first, and then it went black again for a moment. A picture of a dragon bloomed there and a chime sounded.

“Are you sure you're not a witch?” he asked. “Because that looks an awful lot like magic. For that matter, how do you make the light happen? I don't see any candles.”

“They're electric lights. You just flip the switch and they come on. Well, as long as you've paid your light bill, they do. You really don't know about any of this stuff?”

He shook his head.

“Let me show you the internet. Come sit down.” She held the back of the rolling chair she'd been sitting in.

He moved to the chair she held. She leaned over his shoulder and put her hand on a black, rounded thing on the desk. Sliding it around on the desk, she pressed on it and it clicked. Her scent surrounded him once more. It made him think of sex. After a moment, the picture in front of them changed.

“Gah,” he muttered. “How do you know what to look at?”

“I guess it's a little overwhelming at first. You really don't have anything that's like this at all? There's no equivalent of a computer in the magical world?”

“No, we have newspapers and magazines, books, but nothing like this,” he waved his hand, indicating the screen.

“This is what non-magical people have instead of all those.”

“You have books.”

“Well, yes, but I'm considered old-fashioned. You can do a lot of things with a computer. I use mine to watch television programs and movies, listen to music, read the news, play games and look up information I want to know. Does any of that sound interesting to you?”

“A little, but I'm not one to just sit still for long.”

She smiled and laid her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened and she dropped her hand. “Sorry,” she muttered.

He couldn't explain that he hadn't been offended. On the contrary, her touch had elicited a much more pleasant feeling. “It's okay. What's this moovee you were talking about?”

“It's like a television program, only longer. Um, do you know what a play is?”

“Yes, we have those.”

“A movie, and television programs, are like plays, only the performance is recorded so it can be replayed again at a later time. What kind of story would you like to watch?”

“Something about dragons?”

“You like dragons, too?”

“You might say that, yes.”

“We don't have to be on the internet for that. I have movies about dragons saved to my external hard drive. Never mind,” she said when he gave her a curious look. She moved the black, rounded thing around and made it click a couple of times again. The pictures on the screen changed too rapidly for Charlie to follow. Moving pictures appeared on the screen.

“Good?”

“Oh sure.”

She turned and went back to the kitchen area, getting things out of draws and cabinets. Then some bit of dialogue on the computer caught his attention and he settled in, fascinated.

“That's not right,” he exclaimed at one point.

“What is it?” Iris rushed over.

“That two-headed thing. That's not a dragon, that's like a hydra missing five of its heads.”

“It's just a story, Charlie.”

“You mean this is all completely made up?”

She held back a laugh. “Yes,” she said and then she sobered. “Do you mean to say that there are real dragons out there somewhere?”

 _In for a Knut, in for a Galleon,_ Charlie thought. “Erm, yes. I mean, that's a Common Welsh Green,” he pointed at a picture frame. “And that's a Chinese Fireball,” he pointed to a set of windchimes hanging from one corner of the ceiling. “And that,” he pointed at a framed poster, “well, it sort of looks like a Norwegian Ridgeback, but the color's wrong. I thought somehow you knew. Muggles aren't supposed to, but you like dragons so much, I thought...”

“Dragons are real,” she whispered.

“Are you all right?”

“Just a little stunned. If I find out later that you're conning me, I'm going to be extremely disappointed.”

“I can't prove it like I could prove that I'm a wizard. There aren't any dragons in the States. Peruvian Vipertooths don't venture this far north.”

“I find this hard to believe is all. Are unicorns real, too?”

“Yes and probably every other animal you thought was made-up or a myth or legend.”

“Elves? Fairies?”

“Yes and yes. Listen, I'm breaking International Wizarding Law by telling you all this. It's rather like wearing your seatbelt in the car. Muggles aren't supposed to know about magic or dragons or any of that.”

“I don't know who I'd tell, but okay.” She went back to her cookery. Charlie tried to settle and watch the moovee, but the dragons bothered him, so he watched Iris instead. Moving about the kitchen confidently, she measured rice and water and put the pot on the cooker. She seemed to glide around the kitchen, which he would not have expected given that she was tall and, he hesitated in his thoughts, she wasn't fat, though by modern Muggle standards she might be considered so. No, she was voluptuous, solid even. Sturdy had been his first assessment of her and close up, it still rang true. Cutting up vegetables and meat efficiently, she reminded him of his mum just a little bit.

She caught him staring and he blushed slightly. “Did you not like the movie?”

“The dragons are wrong.”

“Well, you can't blame the filmmakers. They didn't know dragons were real and I don't imagine they could hire a wizard to be a technical director.” She walked from the kitchen over to him. “That's okay. I dated a fireman once. Movies with fires in them drove him crazy. Let me just shut this off.” Iris leaned over him and made the black thing click a few times. The computer returned to the still picture of the dragon. Merlin, she smelled good. He wanted to bury his face between her breasts and just breathe her in.

“Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help you?”

She smiled at him. “You see how small my kitchen is. We'd trip over one another.”

The thing was, Charlie wanted to trip over her, or have her trip over him, anything so they ended up in a tangled heap on the floor. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and Iris was fascinating, the perfect blend of shy and open. Open enough to trust, shy enough that he'd have to work a little to convince her to lie down with him. Knowing birds as much he did (which, admittedly, wasn't as much as other men his age), she'd probably think that was abusing her hospitality.

“I can't just sit here. I feel like I'm being lazy.” He stood up and moved over to the table.

“Oh, uh, there's really nothing to do for about half an hour. Do you want to talk? If I ask about something you're not supposed to tell me, just say so.”

“All right,” he agreed.

“Shall I go first?” At his nod, she pulled out one of the chairs at her tiny table and sat down. Charlie followed suit, pulling out the other chair and seating himself. “Earlier you used a word I'm not familiar with, mug-something. What is that?”

“Muggle?” This time she nodded. “It's the word wizards have for people like you, non-magical folk. My turn?”

She nodded again.

“Don't feel you have to answer if you don't want to.”

“Okay,” she ventured, giving himm a wary look.

“Earlier, you said you recently lost your whole family. How recent was that?”

Tears gathered in her eyes but she didn't let them fall. Swallowing, she said, “Four months ago. In February.”

He put his hand on hers. “I'm so sorry. One of my brothers died, but I can't imagine losing both parents and how many siblings?”

“Two. A sister and a brother.”

“And both siblings all at once.”

She wiped at the corners of her eyes. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Five. It used to be six, but Fred died.”

“I'm sorry.” She turned her hand over and grasped his.

They sat there taking comfort from the simple joining of hands for a bit. Then Charlie asked, “If it's not too painful to talk about, how did your family die?”

“They, uh,” she stopped and cleared her throat. “It was a car accident. The roads were icy and a semi truck slid into them.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was. It is, but the highway patrol said that it was instantaneous. They didn't feel a thing.” She let go of his hand. “Tell me about your siblings.”

“Well, there's Bill, he's the oldest. He's married to a Frenchwoman named Fleur. They have two daughters, Victoire and Dominique. I'm next. After me is Percy. His wife is Audrey and they have a little girl named Molly. Fred and George were after Percy. They were twins, but as I said, Fred died. George is married to a woman named Angelina. They don't have any kids yet, because Angelina is an athlete and travels with her team. I'm sure it's only a matter of time, though. Ron is the youngest of the Weasley men, he's married to a girl he went to school with, Hermione. The baby of the family is my sister, Ginny. She's married to a bloke named Harry Potter. He and my brother Ron are best friends.”

Iris frowned. “So all your siblings are married?”

“That's right.”

“And there's no Mrs. Charlie Weasley?”

“No.”

“No girlfriend?”

He shook his head.

“Boyfriend?” she hazarded.

He laughed. “No, not one of them, either. I guess you could say I'm sort of married to my job.”

“I don't know whether to be sympathetic or jealous. I don't currently have a job, and I've never had one that I liked well enough to consider myself married to it.”

“You said something earlier about this being home for a little while longer. Are you moving house?”

“Kind of. I sold my parents' house and a lot of their belongings. With that and the money I got from their life insurance policy, I'm going to start over somewhere else. I haven't quite decided where yet, though I've narrowed it down some.”

“Don't you have other family? Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?”

“My grandparents are all dead. My mother was an only child. My father's siblings are, well, that whole part of the family is kind of messed up. They're not going to be any help. I've lost touch with most of my cousins and they all have their own lives and--it's time to make the salad.”

“I can chop vegetables if you trust me with a knife.”

She got out a wooden cutting board and a knife, handing them to him. Out of the icebox, she got a bag of mixed greens and several other vegetables which she washed and handed to Charlie. She opened the bag of greens and dumped it in a bowl she got out of the cabinet. While he chopped the vegetables, she took a loaf of bread out of the icebox and put it in the oven on a low heat to warm.

“What do you want to drink? I have water, milk, iced tea, orange juice, and beer. Oh, and red and white wine.”

“I'll have a beer, if that's all right.”

“Of course it's all right. I wouldn't have offered it if it wasn't.”

“Well, you have no way of knowing what my alcohol tolerance is and whether or not I'm a mean drunk.”

“ _Are_ you a mean drunk?”

“Not usually.”

“Will one beer get you drunk?”

“Not by a long chalk.”

“There you go,” she said as she twisted the cap off a brown bottle and set it in front of him. “And just so you're not drinking alone, I'll have a glass of wine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I've already been through my self-medicating phase, but no so far from it that my alcohol tolerance has gone back down. One glass won't get me more than a little relaxed.” Iris got out plates and silver and handed them to Charlie. Then she turned to get a wineglass out of a cabinet and a bottle of wine out of the icebox along with a couple bottles of some kind of white sauce and a bottle of red sauce. “Salad dressing and hot sauce in case the jambalaya isn't spicy enough for you.”

Iris served up the food and soon they were tucking in to the meal she'd prepared.

“This is good,” he complimented.

“Thank you. I guess you can tell by looking at me that I like food.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I'm fond of the stuff, myself. And I appreciate a woman who's not afraid to enjoy a meal. I dated this bird once that refused to eat in front of me.”

“I guessing that didn't work out.”

“No. I kept wondering what else she wouldn't do in front of me.”

Iris made a surprised face and then giggled. “Oh no. That's just not right.” She sighed and then asked, “How are you going to get home? Can you just, whatever you said you did before, only do it in reverse?”

“No, it shouldn't have been possible for me to Apparate this far. Even the most skilled wizards can only Apparate about five hundred miles and I'm crap at it.”

“Is there someone you can call? I don't mind paying for an overseas call.”

“I would, but you don't have a Floo.”

“Excuse me? A flue, like a chimney flue?”

“Floo, eff ell oh oh. It's like a fireplace, only you throw this special powder in it and say the place you want to talk to, and stick your head in the fire, or if you want to go there, you step into the fire.”

She gave him a look of utter disbelief. “You're kidding, right?”

He shook his head. “Dead serious, but you don't have one and even if you had a fireplace, it wouldn't be connected to the Floo network.”

“Okay, but I was thinking more like calling someone on the telephone.”

“Telephone,” he repeated. “Is that how you say it? My dad kept rabbiting on one time about a 'fellytone'. Like a television or a computer, wizards don't use them. Some Muggleborn wizards might have one, but I don't know any of their numbers.”

“After dinner, we'll use my computer to look them up and see what we can find.”

An intensive search turned up nothing, though. “I'm sorry. If your friends have telephones, they either have unlisted numbers or mobile phones which don't have listed numbers. Or perhaps my Google-fu is not strong.” She stood and walked to the kitchen to clean up the leavings from tea.

“I don't know what that means, but it's all right. You tried.” He picked up his plate and put it in her sink.

“What, my Google-fu is not strong? It just means I'm not as skilled at searching for things on my computer as I thought I was.” Iris got out containers with lids and started putting the food in them. Charlie put the rest of the salad in one of the containers. Iris smiled warmly at him and he felt his cock twitch in response.

“Thanks.” She snapped the lids on the containers and carried them to the icebox. “So now what will you do?”

“I'm not sure. I think I'm going to have to sleep on it.”

“Ordinarily, I'd be taken aback by your assumption that I'm going to give you a place to sleep, but I think we're past that.”

He gave her a startled glance. “I didn't mean...You don't...”

“Relax. If you'd wanted to hurt me, I'd be dead by now. I have an air mattress. I'll set it up for you and get you some bedding. Did you want to take a shower before you go to bed?”

“Are you saying I smell bad?”

“No, not at all!” she exclaimed and then blushed. “Sometimes I take a shower before bed to relax, not necessarily because I need one. That's all I meant.”

He grinned at her. “I was just taking the mick.”

“I don't know what that means.”

“Taking the mickey? It means I was teasing you. I don't need a shower, but thanks for offering.”

“Okay.” She went to the cupboard in the hallway and got out her air mattress. Inflating it, she laid it on the floor.

“Are you sure that's not magic?”

She chuckled. “I'm sure. It's battery operated.”

“Baddery?”

“Battery,” she over-enunciated. “They're little, I don't know, _things_ that store electricity. It's not magic, honest. Let me get you some bedding.”

Within a few minutes, Iris had wrestled a sheet over the mattress and covered that with another. “I'll have to give you one of my pillows. I don't have any extra.” She disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a pillow and a blanket. “In case you get cold. I've had to run the air conditioning night and day all week. What time do you want to wake up in the morning?”

“I usually wake early. I'll try to be quiet.”

“Don't worry about me, I can sleep any time. No job, remember? I've got an extra toothbrush. I'll leave it on the sink for you.” She turned away.

“Miss Donovan, Iris, I don't know how to thank you for all this: feeding me, opening your home to me, letting me sleep on your floor, and trying to help me. I'll get out from underfoot as soon as I can.”

“You're welcome. I'm sorry I couldn't find phone numbers for your friends. Maybe we both just need to sleep on it. Maybe we'll wake up to the perfect solution. If you—I mean--don't leave without saying goodbye. Please? I've had entirely enough of that for a while.”

“I promise.”

“Wizard's honor?” she asked with a teasing smile.

He had a feeling he was missing the joke. “If you like.”

“Good night, Charlie. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Iris”

She went into her bedroom and closed the door. Charlie used the toilet, washed his face and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush she'd left out for him. Her toothpaste tasted like liquorice. Returning to her sitting room, he went to the switch on the wall she'd used to light the room and flipped it down, plunging the room into darkness.

“Huh. Not magic, my arse.”

He stripped down and slid in between the sheets, lying carefully on the air mattress. It felt weird at first, but soon he was able to settle in when it held his weight. Unfortunately, Iris' scent clung to the pillow, tormenting him. Why did she fascinate him so? It couldn't be just because he hadn't had sex in a while. All right, a long while. He was used to going without. Perhaps he saw her as vulnerable, needing someone to look out for her. Weasleys did seem to be born heroes, every man jack of them, even Mum and Ginny. 

Iris was doing fine, though. She understood her Muggle world and how to get around in it, unlike him. Perhaps it was the aura of loss that clung to her. He hadn't known how to help his family, especially George, through Fred's death. He wasn't sure he knew what to do for Iris either, but he wanted to try.

He'd always thought Muggles would be afraid of wizards, or at least more disbelieving. Iris took everything he'd told her in stride, accepting his explanations, more or less at face value. She didn't seem gullible. Perhaps her recent loss had just made her more accepting. Charlie lay there a long time, staring at the ceiling. Just as he was starting to fall asleep, he heard a strange noise, like a kitten calling for its mum.

Not calling, crying, and not a kitten, Iris. _Oh, bugger._ He rolled off the mattress and pulled on his trousers, buttoning them enough to keep them on his hips. Knocking on her bedroom door, he asked, “Iris? Are you all right?” He turned the knob and cracked the door open. “Iris?”

She hiccoughed. “Yes, I'm fine.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What is there to say?” She threw back the covers and got out of bed. Pulling her door all the way open, she brushed past him and went to the kitchen. Iris turned the light on over her cooker and picked up her wineglass out of the sink. Rinsing it, she got the bottle of wine out of the icebox.

“Oi, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I'm having a glass of wine.”

“I thought you said you were through with your self-medicating phase.”

“I was. Mostly. Sometimes I need a little help to get to sleep.”

He took the glass and the wine from her. “Get me a glass? So you're not drinking alone,” he added.

She turned and got him a glass out of the cabinet. He pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and poured her a glass. Handing it to her, he took the other glass and poured himself a measure, finishing off the bottle. He put the bottle on the table and took the cork from between his teeth, setting it next to the bottle. Iris sat down at the table and took a sip of her wine. Charlie sat down in the other chair and leaned back.

Iris looked down into her wineglass and rolled the stem back and forth between her fingers. “I miss them. _So much._ ” She took another sip. “Sometimes I forget they're—they're gone, and then it all comes rushing back.” Two fat tears rolled slowly down her face. “The phone call asking if I was related to them, going to the m-morgue, identifying their bodies.” She took a large swallow of her wine.

Charlie took her wineglass from her and left it with his on the table. He rose and held out his arms, saying, “Come here.” She stood and went readily into his embrace. Iris laid her head on his shoulder and shook with silent sobs. “It's all right. Let it out,” he said soothingly, rubbing big circles on her back. He tried not to notice how silky her nightgown was or how good her breasts felt pressed against his chest. She had started making those crying kitten noises again and his shoulder was getting damp. That served to tamp down his libido a little.

After a bit, she pushed gently against his chest. “Any more and I'm going to get snot on you.” He let her go and she pulled a piece of kitchen paper off a nearby roll to blow her nose.

“I wouldn't mind. Snot washes off just as easily as tears. You shouldn't be ashamed to mourn. People you loved are gone and that leaves a hole in your life, especially when they die unexpectedly.”

“Like your brother.”

“Yes, but it's been a few years since Fred died. Life does go on, whether we want it to or not.”

Iris nodded. “Thanks, Charlie. Thanks for listening and letting me cry on you. Thanks for not letting me drink until I passed out. That gets expensive after a while.” She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

He turned his head at the last second so her kiss landed on the corner of his mouth. Predictably, she froze. Not so predictably, she only drew back a tiny bit and then kissed him properly. Her lips were soft and her kiss gentle. He touched his tongue to her lower lip, inviting her to let him in. Iris opened her mouth with a tiny sigh. She tasted like the wine she'd been drinking. Charlie cupped her shoulder blades in his hands and drew her closer.

Iris pushed at him again, saying, “No, I--”

“Shh,” Charlie soothed.

“Seriously, Charlie. I can't take advantage of you like this.”

“Wait, what? You think you're taking advantage of me?”

“You're the one that's lost with no way home and dependent on the kindness of a stranger. I can't just use you to make myself feel better.”

“I'm not complaining.” He swept his hands down her back, moulding her to his stocky frame. “Go ahead. Use me.”

She gasped when he pressed his erection against her soft belly. He watched her pupils dilate. “Iris, please, use me,” he murmured. She wavered a moment and then bent her head to kiss him once more.

Warmth like the summer sun bloomed in his chest. He guided her around so she could sit on the edge of the table and started sliding his hands up under the hem of her nightgown.

She pulled her mouth away. “No, Charlie. My table won't hold us and...” she paused, looking up and to the side, “I don't want my first time to be on a table.”

“Wait, you're...” he trailed off, stepping back.

“A virgin?” He just stared and she nodded.

“How old are you?”

“I just turned twenty-one,” she snapped, her cheeks going red, well, redder. “What, now all of a sudden you don't want me? You were fine doing a fat chick, but a virgin is out of the question?”

“No! And you're not fat. I like a woman to have some meat on her bones. But Iris, I haven't been with a woman in a long time. I don't know that I can be as gentle as I should be with you.”

She took a deep breath and gave him a fierce stare. “You asked me to use you. Well, I plan to.” She grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled him after her into her bedroom. He didn't resist. Once in the bedroom, Iris dropped his hand and reached for the buttons on his trousers.

He stopped her by grasping her wrists. “Wait. You don't have anything to prove.”

“I thought you said you weren't going to be gentle with me.”

“I said I didn't think I could,” he corrected, “but let me at least try.”

“Okay,” she said with a touch of relief.

“Any time you don't like what I'm doing and want me to stop, just say so.”

She nodded. “If I do something wrong, you'll tell me?”

He put his hand on her shoulder and ran it down her arm in a light caress. She shivered in response and her nipples stood out under the thin material of her nightgown. “There isn't any right or wrong. There's only things that feel good and things that don't.”

“That felt good,” she said, sending him a glance through her lashes.

“This?” He ran both his hands down her arms.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed, “Yes.”

Charlie took her hands and put them on his chest. “Touch me,” he instructed.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.” He put one hand behind her neck and drew her down for a long, slow kiss. When he removed his hand from her neck to place it on her waist, she hummed her approval into his mouth. She began exploring his torso with her fingertips. Her touch left tingling trails behind as she traced his collarbones and drew arcane patterns on his pectorals.

Charlie's hands tightened on Iris's waist. She grabbed his shoulders as her knees wobbled. He felt a surge of triumph that he'd done that to her with just his kiss. Manoeuvring her around to sit on the side of her bed, he cradled the back of her head in his hand and eased her down until she was lying on her back. He supported his weight on one knee and his elbows.

When his lifted his head, she breathed, “Oh.”

“Mm,” he hummed against the side of her neck. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Do you want the lights on?”

“Don't you want them off?”

“I don't know. I've never done this before, but I read that men were very visual. I thought you'd want to see what you're doing.”

“I don't need to see.” He slid one hand down from her shoulder to cup her breast. “I can feel my way around.”

She arched into his touch. He gently squeezed her breast as he put his lips over the pulse point on the side of her neck and started to suck.

“No, don't do that,” she protested.

He took his mouth off her neck, his hand off her breast and lay down by her side. “What?”

“Don't suck on my neck. I don't like that. You can kiss, lick or bite, but don't suck.”

“Don't want to be marked?”

“That's not it, well, maybe it is, but I don't mind if you bite hard enough to leave a mark as long as you don't break the skin. The sucking just feels weird to me. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize. If you don't like it, I won't do it. There's plenty of other things we can do.”

“I liked it when you touched my breast,” she said, blushing.

He grinned. “That's good, because I liked touching your breast.” He put his hand back on her soft flesh. Her nipple hardened against his palm and he plucked at it, making her whine. Charlie shifted further onto the bed so he could kiss Iris more easily and she returned his kiss enthusiastically.

Her hands roamed over him freely, caressing his shoulders, clutching at his back, discovering his flat nipples and trailing down his sides. In turn, he explored more cautiously, going back frequently to lavish attention on territory he'd already claimed before moving on to something new.

Charlie slid his hand up the inside of Iris's thigh, past the hem of her nightgown. After a moment's pause she parted her legs for him. He touched her, delving into her quim.

“Oh Merlin, Iris, you're so wet.”

She moved to press her legs together.

“No, sweetheart, that's a good thing.”

“I—uh—I know that. I'm not that innocent. It's just, when you call attention to it like that, it makes me embarrassed, or—or something. Vulnerable, maybe? Exposed.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it's all right. You can say...stuff like that. I should get used to it. I'm sure you're not the only man who likes to talk during sex.”

Charlie experienced a moment of blinding rage at the idea of another man holding her, touching her, loving her. He captured her lips in a searing, possessive kiss, eliciting a whimper from her. Letting his kiss soften and slow, he stroked her clit in time with the movements of his tongue in her mouth. She moaned and squirmed.

“Like that?” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please don't stop.”

“I won't,” he promised. “I've been wondering what you sound like when you come.”

“I think,” she panted, rolling her hips, “if you keep doing that, you're going to find out.”

He growled. The sound raised gooseflesh on her arms and he felt her pulse once against his fingers. “That's it, love. Just let go.”

“Oh. Oh, Charlie, I'm going to--” her hips snapped up and he felt her quim contract like a rapidly-beating heart. She moaned loudly. He continued to stroke her until she pushed his hand away, gasping, “Enough.”

“All right.” He kissed her and made to get up.

“No, wait. I didn't mean enough, enough. That is...I thought we were going to have sex. I'm tired of being a virgin.”

He sighed. “If you won't let me be a gentleman...”

“You gave me an orgasm. To be honest, I didn't really expect that for my first time.”

He shook his head in astonishment. “All right, let's get your kit off.”

“What? Oh,” she said, comprehending as he slid her nightgown up past her waist. Sitting up, she pulled it over her head and then pushed the blanket aside so they lay on the sheet. “Now you.” She reached for the buttons on his trousers again.

He let her struggle with them until she got them undone, and then slid his trousers down over his hips and kicked them off. Charlie glanced at her face in the dim light of her bedroom. She was staring at his cock with a look of wonder. “Do you want to touch it?”

“Can I?”

“Of course.”

She trailed her fingertips up the underside. His cock responded by twitching violently and she snatched her hand back.

“It's all right. Here,” he took her hand and guided it back to his penis.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“No, it's like a reflex.”

She wrapped her hand around the base and squeezed gently. Then she slid her hand up, swiping across the head with her thumb. “The skin is so soft,” she said. “Do you want—I mean, is it all right if I kiss it?”

Charlie groaned. The thought of her mouth on his cock was nearly enough to make him spill right there in her hand. “Maybe—maybe next time.”

“Is that something you don't like?”

“No, I like it. Too much,” he admitted ruefully. “It has been a very long time for me. I'm barely hanging on to my self control as it is.”

“Well then, maybe we'd better get on with it,” she said, lying back.

“I think I can last long enough to try one more thing first.” He coaxed her knees up and apart.

“What are you--” she began.

Kissing a line from her knee up the inside of her thigh, he murmured, “You smell so good, I want to find out if you taste as sweet as you smell.” He licked her slit with a broad, flat swipe of his tongue, shocking her into stillness for a long moment. “Mmm. Even better.”

“A-are you sure you want to do that?”

“Definitely.” He licked her again, one long stroke and then flicked her clit rapidly with his tongue, making her squeak. “Hmm, that was a new sound. How about--” he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked gently. “Is it all right to suck you there or does that feel weird too?”

“No,” she moaned. “That feels...it feels really good, but I thought...I thought you were going to, you know, ah, deflower me.”

“That's a very old-fashioned word.”

“I told you I'm considered old-fashioned but—um--what word do you want me to use?”

“How does shag you senseless sound?”

“I'm barely able to string words together to make coherent sentences now. How senseless do you want me to be?”

“Completely incoherent.” Lick. Flicker. “Babbling and.” Suck. “Hmmmm. Screaming my name.”

“Charlieee,” she whined, grinding her pubis against his face.

“That's close.”

“Want you,” she panted, “want you inside me.”

“Not yet, I could still understand you.”

She growled and reached down to hook one wrist under his arm and tug on him. He slid up her body, rubbing his chest and belly against her the whole way. Iris whimpered and writhed under him. Charlie was holding himself back by the thinnest of threads. He grasped his cock and dragged the head through her juices. Unable to wait any longer, he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed. He encountered the expected resistance but then her hymen gave and he sheathed himself completely in her tight heat.

Iris stiffened and her breath caught in her throat. Two tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“Sweetheart...”

“Just give me a moment,” she forced out from between gritted teeth.

He waited as long as he could, but his body was screaming at him to move. “Iris...” He rocked against her experimentally.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. “Okay. I'm all right.”

He moved then, a series of abbreviated thrusts. “Merlin, baby, you're so tight.”

“I feel overstuffed. Is that how it's supposed to feel?”

“Does it feel good?”

“I'm...not sure yet. It feels good to be close to you.”

“Damn. I don't think I'm going to last. I wanted to make this good for you.”

“It's okay. You took care of my needs first, remember?”

“Let's try something a little different. Put your knees down.”

She complied and without pulling completely out of her, he moved his knees, one at a time, to the outsides of her thighs and squeezed her legs together. Charlie began to move slowly, his shaft rubbing her clit with every shallow thrust. “Better?”

“Oh. Oh, yessss,” she hissed. She began a rocking motion of her own, shaky and jerky at first, but then smoothing out until she was undulating her hips along with his steady rhythm.

Charlie felt the pressure building. He was going to come. His awareness shrank to a single point. He tried to hold it there just a few seconds longer so Iris could find her completion, but it had been too long. Grunting and cursing under his breath, he emptied into her.

When he came back to himself, she was still moving, clutching his arse and whining, “Please, please, oh please.”

He resumed his thrusts with a steadier, slower pace. “Are you going to come for me, Iris?”

Short, sharp cries were the only answer she gave him. He felt her pulse around him, once, twice, and then a whole string of contractions. The sensation was almost unbearable. He felt something in his chest crack and melt, like slow lava breaking through the side of a volcano. Her hip motions stuttered to a halt and she let go of his bum slowly. Charlie rolled on his side, pulling her into his arms and cuddling her against his chest. _What the bloody hell just happened?_ he wondered, dazed.

Iris slid an arm about his waist and pulled one of his thighs between hers. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out in a long, satisfied sigh. “Thank you,” she breathed. “That was amazing.”

He just hugged her a little tighter. Words were beyond him right now, and inadequate anyhow. He fell asleep without finding an answer to his question.


	2. Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

_I resolve to call her up_  
_A thousand times a day_  
_And ask her if she'll marry me_  
_In some old fashioned way._

Charlie woke early, though since he was five time zones later in the day, that was late by Dragon Keeper standards. Iris still slept, one bare shoulder poking up out of the covers. He was struck once again by how young she looked. At twenty-one, she was younger even than Ginny, which made him feel a bit like a dirty old man _It's not as great as the age difference between Tonks and Lupin,_ he reminded himself, _and no one had a problem with that._

As if aware of his internal struggle, Iris stirred and Charlie couldn't resist raising up on one elbow to kiss her. He wasn't prepared for her to inhale sharply and push him away as she suddenly came fully awake.

“Easy there,” he soothed. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm not used to waking up with a hot redhead in my bed.”

“You think I'm hot?”

She smiled.

“How do you feel this morning? Sore?”

She stretched. The covers slid down, revealing her breasts. The sight made his cock throb. “A little. Mostly I feel relaxed and content. Did any ideas occur to you overnight on how to deal with your displacement problem?”

“No, my thought processes were occupied with more immediate matters.” He reached out a hand to cup one of her breasts.

She squirmed. “That feels nice,” she sighed. “I—ohh–I had an idea.”

“You did?” he asked absently, tweaking her nipple and rolling it between his finger and thumb.

“Yes,” she hissed as he pinched and tugged at the tip of her breast. “Let me remember what it was.”

“You're very distracting,” he murmured against her neck. “I was just returning the favour.”

“Distract me later.”

“I'd rather distract you now.”

She put her hand over his, stilling his efforts. “Later,” she insisted.

He sighed. “Promise?”

“Barring unforseen circumstances,” she agreed.

Charlie tugged the sheet up to cover her naked flesh. “All right, what was your idea?”

“Will anyone come looking for you?”

“My family should have missed me by now, but they'll start looking in England first and then maybe Romania. That's where I work.”

“Won't they miss you at your job?”

“Ordinarily, they would, but I'm on holiday for the next month or so.”

“Do you know where you can find American wizards that could help you get home?”

“I did think of perhaps doing some essentially harmless but splashy bit of magic in a public place, but I'd rather leave that for a last resort. It would create a lot of unnecessary work for a lot of people.” He combed his limited knowledge of American wizarding society. “There's a big magical shopping district in New Orleans, and another in San Francisco. You said we were three or four hours from Canada?”

“Give or take.”

“The Canadian wizarding authority is split between Toronto and Ottawa.”

“Do you have your passport?”

“Not with me. I could get it if I knew where a branch of G—the wizard bank was.”

“Trying to cross the border without proper identification would be, at best, impossible, which is too bad. I don't know how things are in the magical world, but for us regular folks, Canada has much closer ties to Britain than the US does.”

“It's similar for wizards. The American wizarding government is in New York.”

“Not Washington?” She frowned a little.

“New York is bigger, innit? Easier to go unnoticed by Muggles.”

“I would buy you a train ticket or a bus ticket, but even with that, you still need some sort of identification. New York was on my short list of places to move. Here's my idea: you stay and help me pack up my things and take care of my unfinished business here and I'll take you with me to New York.”

“I don't want to inconvenience you any more than I have to.”

“It's not an inconvenience. I was already going to hire movers to load up and haul my stuff for me, but it's a lot cheaper to just rent a moving truck. You and I can do the loading ourselves. You look like you're pretty strong. ”

“I don't want you to think I'm afraid of hard work, but don't you have any mates to help you at least pack up?”

“I lost touch with my friends when,” she swallowed, “when my family died. I dropped out of school. A lot of them graduated and moved on.”

“Now I feel like a complete git.”

“What? Why? And what's a git?”

“A git can be a lot of things, but I'm using it here to mean, well, an arsehole. You're all alone in the world. I knew your family was gone, but I figured you at least had mates for emotional support. I took advantage of you.”

“I'm old enough to make my own decisions. Look, you kept me from over-indulging last night and you distracted me from my troubles in a breathtaking way. I don't feel taken advantage of, I feel lucky to have met you. I know you're going back to your job in a few weeks and I'll be staying here. I understand that I'll probably never see you again. It's okay.”

Charlie wasn't sure how he felt about that. If Iris had been a witch that he'd picked up in a pub, they'd have established that it was a one-off, or at least no more than a short term arrangement, before engaging in any erotic wandwork. The idea of not ever seeing her again didn't exactly fill him with relief, though. “I'll at least reimburse you for the expense of putting me up.”

“Nonsense. I have all the food from my parents' freezer and pantry to eat before I move. We're going to have to get you some clothes, but we'll get them at the second-hand store. If you don't want to share my bed, I do have that air mattress. My rent won't be more because you're staying here and besides, I've already paid for this month.”

He gave in gracefully. “I would be honoured to share your bed and happy to help you in whatever way you need.”

“And if your family finds you before we get everything packed, I'll go back to my previous plan.”

“If my family manages to find me before I get home on my own, I'll still stay and help you finish.”

“All right, we need a shower and breakfast and then a quick run to Goodwill.”

“And when do I get to distract you?”

“Choose your moment wisely, grasshopper.”

“Grasshopper?”

“It's from an old television show.” She threw back the covers and rolled out of bed. Charlie could see she was trying not to be self-conscious, but couldn't quite bring herself to be seductive. He was seduced anyway. _Choose your moment wisely,_ she'd said. He hadn't had sex in the shower in a long time. Charlie smiled as he untangled himself from the sheet and followed her.

After some thoroughly enjoyable showertime activities (she looked as enticing as a nymph with water and soapsuds running over her breasts), Charlie found he was starving and came to the breakfast table wearing only his towel wrapped about his hips.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a scandalized tone, her gaze nonetheless roaming appreciatively over his bare chest.

“I thought we were sort of past the stage of not being naked around each other. I am wearing a towel. I'm hungry and what you're cooking smells good. Are you really going to refuse to feed me if I don't put clothes on?”

“I guess not.” She loaded a plate for him and one for herself with buttered eggs that had vegetables cooked in them and added toast and rashers of streaky bacon on the side. There was already a glass of some orange stuff that he was pretty sure wasn't pumpkin juice and a cup of tea for him on the table.

“It's just plain old store-brand tea. Do you need sugar for it?” she asked, putting the plates on the table.

“No, but do you have milk?”

She got a carton of milk out of the icebox and brought it to him.

“Thanks for loaning me a razor. I don't mind not shaving when I'm out in the field, but when I'm around people, I like to present a more civilised appearance.”

“It was just a disposable. I have a whole bag of them. If you want a better razor we can pick one up for you while we're out. I can get you actual shaving cream too, so you don't have to make do with my conditioner.”

“No, I think I like your conditioner better than the shaving soap I normally use.”

She smiled. “You wouldn't say that if I'd bought conditioner that smells like flowers instead of coconut. Oh! What is that on your back?” Grabbing his shoulder, she turned him to get a better look.

“It's just my tattoo.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I thought you'd somehow cut yourself.”

“Did you not notice it before?” He craned his neck to try to see what the tattoo was doing. It appeared to be curled up, sleeping.

“No, but it's beautiful.” She ran her finger gently along the red dragon's spine. It lifted its head and snapped at her finger. “It tried to bite me! Charlie, your tattoo moved!”

“It's supposed to do that. And as for him trying to bite you, have you never heard the saying _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_?”

“I can honestly say I've never heard that before in my life. What does it mean?” she asked, sitting down.

“'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.' It was and still is the motto of the school I attended.”

“Is that the only tattoo you have?”

“Now it is. I used to have a Welsh Green on my chest, but I received a nasty burn. When the skin regrew, the tattoo was gone.”

“That's unfortunate. Are you going to have it re-done?” She ate a mouthful of eggs.

“I was going to while I was on holiday. I may not get the chance now.”

“I'll try to get you to where you can get some magical help as quick as I can.”

“Don't worry about it. You're doing more than enough as it is.”

With his help they completed all the tasks that Iris said needed doing, even with frequent breaks for sex. Charlie was astonished by his appetites. He was used to going without for months at a time and now, he could barely go six hours without needing to touch Iris, or kiss her, or shag her rotten right there on the kitchen counter. At night, he slept spooned to her back or with an arm and a leg thrown over her body, instead of sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed. He took delight in teaching her all the sensual pleasures to be had in bed, or on the aforementioned kitchen counter. He shagged her in the shower and on every stick of furniture she owned but the table. Sometimes he took her up against the wall, or on the floor because he couldn't wait to be inside her.

For her part, Iris went along with his suggestions willingly, at least the first time they tried something that was new to her. Some things, not many, she found she didn't care for and some positions were difficult for her to achieve, but she was an apt pupil and an enthusiastic participant. With the increased intimacy between Iris and Charlie, his tattoo became accustomed to her and would nuzzle her hand as best it could.

Within three weeks, they picked up a moving lorry and stopped by the storage building where she'd placed all those belongings of her family's that she hadn't been able to part with. All day, Iris kept fidgeting and Charlie saw her trying to surreptitiously adjust her bra more than once. When they tried to load a mattress, she stumbled slightly and before he realised it, he had run the mattress into her.

“Ow! Shit!” she cried.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she gasped. “It's nothing.”

“I've not heard you swear before. You're not fine and it's not nothing. Tell me.”

“It's nothing important. My—um--chest is just really sore today.”

“Are you getting your period?”

Her face flamed. “Probably,” she muttered. Taking a moment to think, she said, “Yeah, I'm about a week late, so any day now.”

Charlie felt the world drop out from beneath him. As if from a distance, he heard himself ask, “You're late?”

“That's not unusual for me. I'm late all the time. Sometimes I skip entire months.”

“Iris, I realise I should have asked this well before now, but have you been using any kind of contraceptive?”

“No, I haven't needed—oh.”

“Yes,” he returned gently. “Oh.”

“It might not mean anything. I told you, my cycle is very irregular.”

“We've been shagging every day, and I'm one of seven in my family,” he pointed out.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I'll pick up a pregnancy test on the way back to the apartment.”

“That's it?”

“There's no point in worrying about something that might not even be an issue.”

“What will you do?”

“I don't know. Let's get this done.”

“Should you be lifting heavy things in your condition?” He felt his brow crinkle in concern.

“Charlie! I've been lifting heavy things all day!” she snapped. “I'm not some hothouse flower. Help me get this stuff loaded.”

“No. You've done enough for today. Let me earn my keep.”

“But--”she started to argue.

“Why are you keeping this mattress anyway? The one on your bed is perfectly good.”

“I don't know!” she shouted. Her face had gone completely red and tears of frustration leaked out the corners of her eyes.

Charlie leaned the mattress against the side of the ramp and went to her. He put his hands gently on her shoulders. “Oi,” he soothed, “let's take a break. It's hot. I could use some water. How about you?”

“Okay,” she agreed in a voice that wobbled.

They went to the cab of the moving lorry and got two bottles of water out of the ice chest she'd packed for them. He waited until she'd drunk more than half her water before speaking again. “Better?”

She nodded.

“Are you going to let me load the rest of the lorry?”

“No, but I'll let you do the really heavy stuff.”

“Fair cop.”

Charlie and Iris finished their tasks with no further conflict, both wrapped in their own thoughts. He knew what he had to do if she was pregnant. His baby deserved the protection of his name. So did Iris, for all that she was competent and capable and independent. She wouldn't want to leave her country and move to Romania with him, of that he was sure. Could they work out some arrangement where they lived married but separate? That notion didn't hold any appeal for him at all. He didn't want to be, what was the Muggle phrase? Oh yes, an absentee father. He wanted his child to grow up knowing him and his family. And Charlie found that he wanted to share the joys and burdens of parenthood with Iris.

He wanted to share the joys and burdens of life with her.

_Oh, Merlin._

Iris decided at the last minute to discard the mattress they'd spatted over, and well as all the other upholstered furniture. "Goodwill won't take it," she explained. "They won't risk it being infested with bedbugs." They left it all in the skip by the gate. She stopped at a Muggle apothecary, though she called it a drug store, and came back out looking embarrassed, carrying a small bag. Without a word, she handed it to Charlie. Curious, he pulled a box out of the bag and opened it. He read the instructions while she drove.

“You have to wee on this?” he asked incredulously, holding up the plastic wand.

“What? Put that away,” she ordered, blushing.

“Why? I'm not going to contaminate it. It's wrapped up.”

“Just put it away. Why did you get it out, anyway?”

“I wanted to know how Muggles do this.”

“Why? How do wizards do it?”

“Witches,” he said with emphasis, “go to a Midwife or a Healer and have a spell done. Some witches, like my mum, learn the spell and cast it on themselves.”

“Oh. Well, yes, I have to pee on that stick. Every non-magical adult knows what that stick is for and I don't appreciate you waving it around so everyone can see it.”

Charlie put the wand back in the box and the box in the bag. When they got back to Iris's flat, she took the bag from him.

“Let's go do this.”

Within a very short time, they were ensconced on her loveseat, studiously ignoring the plastic stick in its little paper tray.

He took her hands in his. “Before you know, will you tell me what result you're hoping to get?”

“I don't know. I guess...I'm hoping that it's positive, which is weird. I never thought I'd have kids. I never really wanted any, but with my family gone, I kind of want to belong to someone. Don't worry, I won't ask you for anything," she added. "I know it'll be hard, but I should have known better.”

“You don't have to do it alone.”

“What do you mean? In a few days, you'll be going back to England.”

“I'll marry you, of course.”

“What? I just told you I don't expect or even ask anything of you.”

“I know you're not asking. I was raised to take responsibility for my actions.”

“You can't just casually announce that you're going to marry me. Don't I get a say?”

“I thought you'd be relieved that I'm willing to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she insisted.

“How?”

“I'll get a job, same as I would have done without this little complication.”

“Our baby shouldn't be thought of as a complication.”

“You know what I mean!”

“No, I don't. I don't understand why you won't let me take care of you.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself. Charlie, you told me you were married to your job. To me, that says you don't have room in your life for a wife, much less a baby, too.”

“I'll make room. Things are different now.”

“If you'd wanted a family, you'd have had one by now.”

“Did you ever think I just hadn't had the chance to meet anyone? There aren't many eligible birds where I live. We're kind of isolated.”

She exhaled a short, sharp sigh. “Is it time yet? There may be no point in having this argument.”

He glanced at his watch. “It's time. Go ahead and look.”

She quailed. “I don't think I can.”

Charlie turned his head to see. “Did you mean it when you said you hoped it was positive?”

“It's positive?” She turned to pick up the stick. A blue line was clearly visible. “Oh god.” Iris burst into tears.

“Here now, hush.” He took the stick from her and set it back in its tray. Then he gathered her in his arms and held her while she cried. When her sobs had faded to hiccoughs and sniffles, he kissed her forehead. “Why don't you go relax in a bath? I'll see what I can throw together for tea.”

Iris didn't argue.

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked on the half-open toilet door. “Did you fall asleep and drown?”

“No,” she answered. “Well, I didn't drown, anyway. I may have dozed off for a little while.” She sat up and flipped the switch to let the water out.

“It isn't as good as anything you've cooked, but tea is ready.”

“Thank you. I'm sure it'll be fine,” she said, standing and reaching for her towel.

“Don't thank me until you taste it.”

“You've been perfectly competent when you've helped me.” She wrapped the towel around herself. “Charlie, you know I'd never keep your child away from you, don't you?”

“Yes, I know you're not like that.”

She gave him a relieved sort of smile. “Good.”

“But you're wrong if you think that's why I proposed to you.”

“ _You're_ wrong if you think that what you said was a proposal.”

“I'm sorry I didn't fancy it up with flowers and pretty words.”

She shook her head at him. “When you ask someone to marry you, it's customary to phrase it as a question. I need to get dressed, can you let me pass?”

He grasped her upper arms gently. “Not yet. Is that what your problem is? I didn't ask you right?”

“I have a lot of problems with our situation. The fact that you feel you have the right to decide what's best for me is only one of them.”

“I don't...” he began, then realised she had a point. She wasn't right, but he could see how it might have sounded to her. “That is, I didn't ask you to marry me, however I phrased it, because I wanted access to my child. I want access to you too, to your delectable body,” he kissed along her collarbone, “and your quick mind and your warm and generous heart.”

“Charlie,” she breathed, “dinner will get cold.”

“Let it,” he said, tugging at her towel.

She clutched it tighter. “But I'm hungry,” she whinged.

“Mm,” he hummed into the hollow of her throat. “So'm I.”

She groaned. “I don't want to waste food.”

“All right,” he sighed, “but after tea...”

“Things will still be the same.” She said slipping around him and escaping into her bedroom.

He let her go though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He ran his fingers though his hair, grabbing two great handfuls and tugging at it. He wished, as he hadn't for a very long time, that he had Bill's confidence, or Percy's smarts, or George's charm, or even Ron's bloody uncanny luck with birds. How had he managed to cock up his proposal so badly? Were American birds that different from British ones? Or was it that Muggles were that different from witches?

Charlie walked back to Iris's tiny kitchen. _You're not thick, Weasley. Figure it out._ Bill told him he'd taken Fleur out to a romantic restaurant to propose. He had no money to take Iris anywhere, but he could do a few things to create a more romantic atmosphere in her kitchen. With a few flicks of his wand, he made the improvements he had in mind.

When Iris emerged from the bedroom, she wore a yellow dress that left her shoulders bare. Charlie's resolve to take things slow was sorely tested and something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because she eyed him nervously.

“You look radiant,” he said.

“I'm barely pregnant. I don't think I'm supposed to be glowing yet.”

“Well, then it's a combination of your normal level of beauty and the little bit of sun you got today.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, going pink. “Where did you get the tablecloth?”

“I conjured it.”

“And the candles?”

“Conjured them too. Do you like it?”

“I never thought of my kitchen having ambiance.”

“I hope my spaghetti bolognese lives up to the atmosphere.”

Iris gave him a tentative smile. “Spaghetti is one of my favorites.”

He grinned back. “Mine too.” He pulled her chair out for her and after only a moment's hesitation, she sat in it. “I'd have poured you a glass of wine, but I read that pregnant women aren't supposed to drink. I don't want you to think I'm making your decisions for you--”

“No, it's okay. I shouldn't be drinking.”

“I'll get the food.” He turned away to get plates out of her cabinet and fill them with pasta and sauce. Feeling her eyes on him, he sneaked a glance in her direction. Her expression was guarded but hopeful and he chose to take that as a sign that she might feel something more than just lust for him.

Throughout tea, Charlie kept the conversation light, asking about her childhood and her time in Muggle uni. He expressed surprise that she'd studied history.

“Why is that hard to believe?” she asked.

“I've always thought of history as rather dull, dry, boring stuff.”

“A lot of people do, but everything you've experienced and everything you're living through right now will be history someday.”

“I suppose so.”

“Charlie, will you tell me what it was like growing up as a wizard? I don't want you to break the law, but anything you can tell me...”

“Wanting to know what you've let yourself in for?”

She put her hand on his wrist and he felt his pulse speed up. “No. I want to know about you. Surely there are some things you can tell me.”

“What do you want to know?”

She sat back, letting go of his wrist. “When did you first do magic?”

“I'm not sure. Most children start doing magic before they can really talk. The first time I remember doing magic, I must have been four years old. Mum tells the story that she kept finding me stuck up one tree or another. She kept scolding me for climbing up there before she realised there wasn't any way to physically climb those trees, at least not as high as I was in them.”

“How did you get up there?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. I just remember wanting to get up high, I think I wanted to be taller than Bill, and then I was up in a tree, clinging to a branch for dear life.”

“Oh dear.”

“I never did grow as tall as Bill. 'Course, I was never as pretty as he was, either.”

“Does...”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“No, ask your question.”

“I was going to ask if it bothered you that I'm taller than you.”

“No. I got over being bothered by my lack of height a long time ago, and on you, those extra inches are sexy.”

She blushed and changed the subject. “So Bill is the pretty one...”

“Was. He's all scarred up now. Maybe if he hadn't been so good-looking before, he wouldn't be so sensitive about his scars now.”

“Okay. Percy is what?”

“The smart one. Fred and George were the funny ones. George isn't as funny without Fred egging him on, but he's still the funniest of all of us. Ron is...the lucky one.”

“And you? What are you?”

“Nothing. I'm just plain old Charlie.”

She didn't contradict him, but she gave him a disbelieving look. “Earlier you said you worked in Romania. What do you do there?”

“I work with dragons,” he admitted. “Here, let's put the rest of the food away and do the washing-up.”

“You don't have to tell me if you're not supposed to,” but she got up, carrying her plate to the sink.

“I think I've already broken the Statute of Secrecy, or at least bent it so badly it's unrecognisable. I'm a Dragon Keeper on a reserve in the Carpathian mountain range. Like I said, it's very isolated, but it's achingly beautiful.”

“And the dragons? Are they as ferocious as your tattoo?”

“More,” he said, running water in the sink and adding a squirt of her dish soap. “But they're beautiful in their own ways too.”

“How many dragons are at the reserve?” she asked, packaging up the rest of the sauce and noodles.

“It varies. We only have room for about a hundred and forty-five or fifty. Crowd them in closer and they start fighting and getting sick. Most of our dragons are Romanian Longhorns, Ukrainian Ironbellies or Hungarian Horntails but there's a family grouping of Swedish Short-Snouts: a mated pair and a juvenile. There should be some babies any day now from Agnetha's last clutch.”

“The dragon's name is Agnetha?”

“Well, not officially. I like to give them names. Maybe I'm just fooling myself, but I think it helps me understand them better, you know, be more compassionate towards them. There are some wizards that think the only good dragon is a dead dragon. They'd keep them chained up with magic and butcher them for their usable parts.”

“That's awful!”

“Yeah, it is. Never mind the fact that it's bloody difficult to get dragons to breed in captivity, even the kind of loose captivity we enforce on the reserve. Still, a part of our operating budget comes from the sale of dragon parts.”

“You don't kill them, do you?”

“No, not usually. Sometimes we get a rogue that has to be destroyed, but when the dragons die on their own, we harvest the hide, talons and teeth, horns and spikes or venom if the dragon is one of those kinds, liver, whatever blood we can salvage and the heartstrings.”

“Heartstrings?”

“For wands. Well, for the cores of wands. Each wand has some bit of a magical creature inside it, usually a phoenix feather, unicorn hair or dragon heartstring.”

“But dragons are the only ones that have to die to...”

“Yes.”

She nodded her understanding. “Tell me about the rest of the dragons at the reserve.”

“Well, there's Agnetha and Bjorn, the Short-Snouts. Erik is their offspring. We have one Welsh Green, Gwllym; one Hebridean Black, Tearlach; and fifty or sixty Longhorns. There are fifteen Ridgebacks, eighteen Horntails, fifteen Ironbellies, and two male Chinese Fireballs: Huang and Tung. We don't usually get Vipertooths or Antipodean Opaleyes.”

She was quiet for a minute or so, digesting all the names of the breeds and sorting out the names he'd given the dragons. Then she asked, “What do you do as a Dragon Keeper?”

“Well, when a dragon dies, I'm one of the Keepers that harvests the parts.”

That took her aback some, he could see. “Isn't that incredibly difficult for you? I mean, not to sound insulting or, or insensitive, but you practically make pets of the dragons. Isn't it hard to, well, to cut them up like that?”

“It is, but I'd rather it be me than someone who treats the dragon like just a piece of meat.”

She nodded her understanding. “That's not all you do, right?”

“Right. The wards need to be maintained, the spells that keep the dragons within the reserve, and the spell that keeps Muggles away. When a Dragonhealer needs to examine one of the dragons, I or one of the other Keepers accompany him or her for protection. When a juvenile is abandoned too soon, I help take care of it until it can hunt on its own. When a dragon gets transferred in or out, I often go along to monitor the binding spells we have to use for transport. And we have between four and ten interns at any given time that need supervision and guidance.”

“No wonder you're married to your job. If what I did was that interesting, I'd be devoted too.”

He sobered. “Iris, it's not ever going to be the same now. I'll always love working with dragons, but well, let's just say I won't accumulate over a month of holiday leave ever again.”

“Why?”

“Are you taking the mick? Because if I can't convince you to marry me, I'll be spending my holiday time visiting you here in the States.”

“Oh. Charlie, I can't...” she made a helpless sort of gesture with her hands. “I can't deal with that right now. Today has been really...full. You don't have to finish the dishes, just let the water out. I think I'm going to bed.”

“It's still early. Why don't you just put some music on your computer and curl up on the loveseat?”

“If I fall asleep there, I'm going to wake up with a crick in my neck.”

“I won't let you stay there all night. Whether you want to admit it or not, we're in this together. I don't think you should be alone right now. I'm going to finish the washing-up and then we'll go to bed.”

“What if I want to be alone?”

“Do you?”

“No,” she admitted and went to sit on the loveseat. Kicking off her shoes, she curled her feet up under her. She didn't bother to set her computer to play music as she'd done many of the evenings they'd spent together so far, but merely sat in silence, staring at the wall. Charlie's heart hurt to see her like that, so withdrawn and shuttered. Their earlier ease when they talked about his job had evaporated. He didn't need to talk or hear her speak, but this silence felt heavy and cold. Not knowing what to do for her, he gave her space.

Perhaps that was the wrong tack to take, though. She wasn't indifferent to him. Maybe she was merely being cautious, not wanting to risk hurt and rejection. He just needed to take the plunge, admit that he'd fallen in love with her. He finished the dishes, let the water out and dried his hands. Turning to speak to Iris, he found she had fallen asleep, curled into a foetal position.

_Your timing sucks dragon bollocks, Weasley._

He went to the bedroom and turned down the sheet. Returning to the sitting room, he scooped Iris up in his arms. She woke enough to clutch at his shoulders. “Easy. I've got you.”

“I'm too heavy for you,” she mumbled a protest.

“You aren't. I'm used to wrestling four-tonne dragons. You don't weigh nearly that much.”

“'M not a dragon.”

“No,” he agreed, “you're not.” He got her undressed and under the covers, and then went back to lock the apartment door and turn off the lights. Stripping down in the dark, he listened to her even breathing, letting the sound soothe him. He crawled into bed only to find she'd curled back into a ball, wrapping herself around her pillow. Charlie coaxed her to stretch out so he could spoon against her back. He slid one hand over her soft belly. 

_A baby._ My _baby,_ he thought. He felt a fierce, protective pride and had to swallow against the lump in his throat. Charlie couldn't help but dream of a son, growing up strong and sturdy, with Weasley red hair and freckles and Iris's eyes and smile. _Or a daughter,_ he reminded himself, since his brothers had only produced girls so far. She'd be Daddy's little princess and have him wrapped firmly around her finger. And Iris by his side with another on the way, or perhaps one in her arms.

When he woke in the morning, she was already up and gone. She'd left him a note on the kitchen table, though. _Gone to the store,_ it read. Maybe she was getting more boxes. Charlie took a shower, shaved and brushed his teeth. Then he set about making breakfast. He mourned the fact that none of the shops carried proper bacon or bangers and forget about finding black pudding. Iris had picked up a can of beans at his request, but they were disgustingly sweet, not at all like the beans he was accustomed to. At least he could grill mushrooms and tomatoes to go with the eggs.

The door opened just as breakfast was ready. “Oh, you're up,” said Iris. “And you cooked breakfast. Wonderful, I'm starving.”

He took the grocery bag from her and looked inside. She'd bought water biscuits and ginger ale, a book and a bottle of pills. “I wasn't sure if you'd be experiencing morning sickness this soon, but I figured I needed to eat at least.”

“Well, I did have a couple of scary moments this morning, hence the soda crackers and ginger ale.”

He pulled the book out of the bag. “ _What To Expect When You're Expecting_?”

She shrugged self-consciously. “I'm pretty sure there's not a chapter in there on what to expect if your babydaddy is a wizard, but everything else should be covered. Give me those vitamins please, I need to take them with food.”

He got the bottle of pills out of the bag and handed them to her. Setting the bag down on the floor out of the way, he got plates out of the cabinet and started dishing up breakfast. Iris got her bottle of vitamins open with the help of a butter knife out of the draw and then squeezed around Charlie to get a glass. When she would have squeezed past him again, he turned around, grabbed her by the waist and kissed her.

“What was that for?”

“Just because.”

“Oh. Well.” She bent her head and kissed him back.

“Good morning,” he wished her in what she'd called his bedroom voice, the one that usually resulted in them shagging right then and there. He felt her tremble as she told him good morning back rather breathlessly.

“We—um—we need to get the truck completely loaded today. I'll keep the air mattress out and our overnight bags, but I want to get an early start tomorrow. Or as early as we can manage.”

Charlie let her go. “All right,” he said. “Erm, I haven't offered before now because of the Statute of Secrecy, but I can levitate everything and we can pretend to carry it out to the lorry.”

“Anything that's going to enable us to get that truck loaded faster without wearing us out is fine by me. Which of these is mine?”

“Take your pick.”

She grabbed a plate and took it to the table. After a few bites, she said,” If you were going to stick around, I'd say you could cook for me any time.”

“Do you want me to? Stick around, I mean.”

“I couldn't ask you to quit your job. You'd come to resent me pretty quickly and I'd always feel like 'the other woman'.”

“I wouldn't have to quit my job. There are other ways to travel besides Apparition. Aren't there Muggles who commute for work?”

“Yes,” she answered carefully, “but not usually to a job halfway around the world.”

“Distance isn't an issue when magic is involved. Look, I know this wasn't what you planned.” He took a deep breath. “Merlin knows, I didn't expect to Apparate to the States and fall in love with a beautiful and kind-hearted Muggle who offered to help me.”

She froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “I'm sorry, I thought you said--”

“That I've fallen in love with you? I did and I have.”

“You love me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I fell for you that very first night. I didn't realise it straight away, but yes, Iris Donovan, I love you.”

“You don't even know me,” she protested.

“I do know you. We've spent practically every minute of the last three weeks together. If New York's where you want to live, that's fine. I can Portkey to Romania during the week and come home to you on the weekends.”

“Um, no, I don't have my heart set on New York specifically.”

“No?” he asked, hope lifting his voice.

“I've been checking the want ads. Rents are awfully high and there aren't as many jobs as I thought there'd be.”

“Would you consider relocating to England? I could get us a flat in London.”

“I don't think London is significantly cheaper than New York and I'm sure the immigration authorities in the UK might have something to say about me getting a job there.”

“I earn enough to support both of us and I've saved quite a bit over the years.”

“I couldn't just take your money. I'd feel like a kept woman.”

“If you married me, you wouldn't be my woman, you'd be my wife.” He took her hand in his. “Iris, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have call me 'husband'. Is the idea of marrying me so distasteful?”

“No! Of course not! I mean...”

He grinned. “I think you were pretty clear.”

“My...concerns about marrying you have less to do with how I feel about you and more to do with the differences between us. If we were to get married, what would our life be like? You're unfamiliar with things that are commonplace to me. There are so many things I don't know about your world, that I don't even know what questions to ask.”

“Shall I tell you what my life is like?”

“That might be a good place to start, but I should get the dishes washed. I want to do up the rest of the laundry and that truck won't load itself.”

“It could but for the Statute of Secrecy. No, I get your point. You want to wash the bedding, yeah? Let's strip the bed and you can show me how to take it apart. Then I'll load the lorry while you do those other things. I promise I'll leave the lighter stuff for you. We'll talk later.” He gave her hand a little squeeze and let go. “But finish your breakfast first. You're eating for two now.”

“Pfft. Hardly two. Maybe one and two tenths.”

“Eat,” he ordered, but his eyes invited her to laugh.

“Yes sir,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Such cheek,” he scolded jokingly.

Iris cleaned her plate even though her grilled tomato and toast had to have gone cold. They set about their self-assigned tasks contentedly. Iris called a halt at noon for lunch and drove them to get take away.

“It there some place other than your apartment we can go to eat this?” Charlie asked.

“Oh sure, there's a really nice park near here. Feeling the need to be surrounded by green?”

“That's a good way of putting it. Cities make me itch after a while.”

“Why did you say you'd get us a flat in London, then?”

“I suppose I thought you might like to live there. Wouldn't you?”

“For a while, maybe, until I'd been to all the museums and historical sites. There's no denying that there are more jobs in a city.”

“And more people competing for them.”

“True,” she sighed.

“Where would you like to live?”

“I don't know. Tell me more about Romania. Is the reserve anywhere near Dracula's castle?”

“The reserve isn't really near anything, but if you want to visit Bran Castle, I could take you there.”

“And Poenari Citadel?”

He did a double take. “What do you know about Poenari Citadel?”

“I know it was the historical home of Vlad Tepesh, the inspiration for the character Dracula.”

“Oh, it's much more than that, but if you want to see it properly, you'll have to go with a wizard. Or a witch,” he added in the spirit of fairness.

“Tell me about your typical day. What time do you get up in the morning?”

“Around half five or six, usually. I do have to sleep out in the field, for a couple of weeks at a time every three months or so, but my morning routine's much the same as it is here.”

“Where does your water come from?”

“We have a well-and-cistern setup for the reserve. The wells are for drinking and cooking, the cisterns are for the toilets and bathing. The hot water comes from a geothermal spring.”

“What do you do for breakfast?”

“There's a communal kitchen and the reserve director's wife cooks three meals a day for us.”

“You don't have a kitchen in your cottage?”

“It's rather like yours. I have a sink and an icebox and a cooker which I mostly use to brew a cuppa.”

“How does your cooker work?”

“Magic.”

“So if I were to move to Romania with you, I wouldn't be able to cook on it?”

“You're considering moving to Romania with me?”

“Not the point, Charlie,” she growled.n

“Oh, I think it's very much the point.”

She huffed a sigh. “You remember how confused you were with the laundry room? How do you wash your clothes?”

“I have a washing machine. It just doesn't look like the ones at your apartment building. It's open at the top, not a closed box, and there's a mangler to put the clothes through. Then there's another tub for the rinse water.”

“My grandmother had a washer like that, but hers ran on electricity. I bet yours runs on magic and I wouldn't be able to use that either.” She folded her arms across her bosom in a gesture he was beginning to recognise as a sign that she was feeling insecure.

“You wouldn't have to live with me on the reserve. And we don't have to get a flat in London, if you don't want to.”

“If I marry you, and that's a very big if, I want you home at night as much as possible. You think about what the best way to accomplish that would be, taking into consideration the fact that I can't do magic.” With that ultimatum, she picked up the empty containers from lunch and threw them in a nearby bin.

That evening, after they got the lorry loaded and performed one last thorough cleaning of Iris's apartment (with a magical assist from Charlie and his wand), they got take away pizza for tea.

“I've thought about what you said earlier,” he began as they sat, tailor-fashion, on the floor to eat their meal.

She waited.

“It would be easier to live elsewhere in Romania, work at the reserve and still be home at night if I weren't such pants at Apparition. The best way for us to live together the way you want would be for you to live in my cottage at the reserve. I'm used to doing my own laundry. I could run the washing machine in the morning before I go to work and you could hang the clothes on the line or on the drying racks inside. I'm not sure what to do about the cooker, though. It isn't like yours here, it's made of iron.”

“You have a cast-iron stove? My great-grandmother cooked on one of those. I guess I could learn how to do that, but you'd need to chop wood for it and deal with undercooked or burned meals while I figure it out.”

“No, Iris, there's no chimney, or rather the cooker's not connected to it. There's a chimney for the Floo, but you can't burn wood or anything else in the cooker.”

“Well, damn. I was starting to look forward to the challenge.”

Charlie felt his heart leap. This wasn't an exercise in 'what ifs'. She was planning their life together.

“I thought of another problem. You said the reserve is in the middle of nowhere. How would I buy groceries?”

“The reserve has a Muggle lorry and the reserve director's wife does a supply run every other week. You could probably ride with her into town.”

“And what about the spells that keep non-magical people away from the reserve?”

“I can get you a charm to wear that will make you immune to the spell. I'll have to ask around to see what can be done about getting a cooker you can use, but I can't do that until I get back to England.”

“If the reserve is as isolated as you say, I'll need something to do for entertainment, and no, sex is not entertainment.”

“I find it highly entertaining.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“So do I, for right now,” said Iris with emphasis, “but I'm going to get big in a few months, well, bigger. Our...options are going to get more limited and that still leaves me with nothing to do but housework while you're working. My laptop has a battery, but it only lasts a few hours and I probably won't be able to get the internet out on the reserve.”

“Would that be so bad? Most wizards and witches don't have computers or internet. We do just fine.”

“You can all do magic, too,” she said exasperatedly.

Abashed, he said, “I can look into what it would take to get your computer to work and how to get you internet after I get back to England as well. It may not be possible.”

Iris sighed. “That's going to be a problem, maybe not right away, but eventually. If I'm going to marry you, we have to figure something out.”

Charlie cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Are you going to marry me?”

“I...I think I'm going to have to. I don't think I can take losing another person I love.”

“You love me?” He echoed her question from the previous night.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I'm not sure when it happened. All I know is that I would miss you like crazy when you went home. I've gotten used to having you in my bed.”

“You can _have me_ in your bed whenever you want,” he offered magnanimously.

“I'm pretty sure I can have you wherever I want, not just in my bed.”

“That too. In fact...” he folded the pizza box closed and carried it to her nearly empty icebox.

“Are you sure being married to me is going to be enough for you? After a couple of years, you're not going to sleep out in the field all the time to be closer to your dragons?”

“The dragons can't do for me what you do,” he said, peeling his shirt off and kneeling down in front of her.

“I would hope not!” Iris slipped her shirt off as well.

When she reached back to unhook her bra, Charlie said, “Wait, I want to do that.”

“They're still tender,” she warned.

“I'll be careful, I promise. But back to what you said, the dragons can't hold me and make me feel invincible and humble at the same time like you do. The dragons don't make my heart bubble over with joy when I see them smile. And I'll never belong to the dragons the way I belong to you, the way I will always, always belong to you.”

“Oh, Charlie,” she sighed in a voice choked with emotion. Then she practically launched herself into his arms. He caught her easily and let her weight carry them to the floor.

“See, if a dragon had tried that, I'd be a greasy spot on some Romanian mountainside.”

Iris batted at his shoulder. “Are you sure you don't want to wait for someone who will fit into your life better? There's got to be witches out there who want to live in the middle of nowhere and who love dragons as much as you do.”

“I'm know there are,” he slipped his hands inside the back of her denims. “We just got a new intern at the reserve before I had to use my holiday leave. She's a curvy, blond, country lass who barely comes up to my chin. She's absolutely mad for dragons and does nothing. For me. Whatsoever.” He punctuated his phrases with kisses along her jaw.

“She sounds like she'd be perfect for you. You wouldn't have to keep explaining magic to her.”

He rolled them over so he was cradled by her pelvis and rocked against her denim-clad core. His mouth closed gently over her nipple through her bra, making her breath hitch. She rolled her hips. The vibrations from his answering moan caused her nipple to tighten and she threw back her head with a whimper.

“I like explaining magic to you,” he said huskily. “I grew up with it. It's commonplace to me. You make it new.” He blew on her nipple.

“We—ummm—we need to at least get on the blanket. I don't want rug burn on my ass again.”

“You could be on top, if you'd rather.”

“I might like that anyway, but I don't want rug burn on my knees either.” She reached over to the air mattress and pulled the covers to the floor with them. 

Charlie rolled them back over on the blanket.

“Ohh, too fast. Now I'm dizzy.” She swallowed convulsively, closing her eyes.

“I'm reasonably sure I don't make any of the dragons' heads spin, either,” he said with a grin.

“It's not going to be as funny if I puke on you.”

She recovered quickly, though, pushing herself up on her knees to get to the buttons on his trousers. Her fingers were much more deft than the first time they'd been together and she soon had his cock out. She handled that with much more confidence, too. He hissed his pleasure and twisted the covers in his fists as she worked him with a look of absolute concentration on her face.

“S-slow down,” he begged.

“No, I think I like having you at my mercy.” She smiled seductively, but didn't stop.

“Witch,” he growled.

“Oh no, I can't do magic at all.”

“You're magic all right.” He grasped her wrist and removed her hand from his penis. “Play with something else for a little bit,” he said, sitting up to reach around her and unfasten her bra.

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and buried her fingers in the shaggy curls at the nape of his neck. He pressed a kiss to her breastbone as he pulled her bra away from her. “Mmm, you always smell so good.”

“It's just my body wash. Nothing special.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, taking her hands away from the back of his head to slip her bra straps off her arms and toss the garment aside. “Tell me if I get too rough.” He cupped her breasts very gently and brushed his thumbs across the tips. She hissed much as he had barely five minutes ago when she'd been fondling him. “Good?” he asked.

“Good,” she replied in a strangled voice.

“How about this?” He curved his back so he could delicately lick one nipple.

“Ohh yeah.” She slid her fingers into his hair once more, this time to direct him to her other breast. Charlie continued his attentions until she was grinding against him.

“Let's get these off,” he said in a voice roughened with passion, reaching for the button and zip on her jeans.

“I'll do that.” Iris stood on unsteady legs to shed her jeans and knickers. “You take yours off.”

Charlie obediently stripped off his trousers. He gazed up at her with awe, amazed that this goddess loved _him_ , and he said as much.

“I'm not a goddess, Charlie, nor a witch. I'm just a woman,” she said, straddling him once more.

“My woman,” he said possessively, setting his hands to her waist to guide her onto his cock.

“And you're my man,” she sighed as he slid home inside her.

She started a slow, maddening rhythm while he licked her neck. When he stretched to nuzzle her just below her ear, she shuddered all the way down to her quim. They groaned in unison.

Charlie wormed his left hand between their bodies to find her clit with his thumb and urged her to speed up with his right hand on the small of her back.

“Cheating,” Iris admonished, gasping.

“'All's fair in love and war',” he quoted.

For a reply, she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and pulled his head back so she could mouth his Adam's apple and nip at his throat.

“Iris, baby, I can't last.”

“I don't want you to.”

“Are you close?”

“So close...”

He felt her preliminary flutters before his climax slammed him like a bludger and he exploded into her. When his vision cleared, she was still clenching around him, again and again. He pulled her face down so he could kiss her. When her aftershocks finally faded, he wrapped them both in the tangled mess of the covers and they slept right there on the floor.


	3. Do You Believe In Magic

_“If you believe in magic, come along with me  
We'll dance until morning, 'til there's just you and me.”~~~Do You Believe In Magic?, The Lovin' Spoonful_

They left a little later in the morning than Iris wanted to, but only because she looked so beautiful, all rumpled and sleepy that Charlie had to make love to her again. He read her _What To Expect..._ book while she drove the moving lorry and sang along with the radio. They arrived at the motel where she'd reserved them a room on the outskirts of the city in the early evening, though it didn't look much like the outskirts to him.

“Do you know where the American magic authorities have their offices?”

“Not exactly. George visited New York once to investigate the possibility of opening a branch of his shop here. He said the entrance to Commerce Alley was near something called The Met. I can ask for directions there.”

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art? That's easily found.” Iris booted up her laptop and looked up the directions, which she sent to her mobile phone. She then listed her car for sale on something she called Ebay. “I'm not going to be able to take it with us,” she said, shrugging. “I'm not licensed to drive in Europe.” She received three calls inquiring about the car before they finished their tea and sold it to the first person who showed up with cash to the meeting place she'd arranged.

Following the directions she'd looked up, they made their way into the heart of Manhattan and walked around the outside of The Met until he spotted the entrance to Commerce Alley. Charlie asked the direction of the Secretary of Magic office and was told an address in the Bronx. He accessed his vault at Gringotts, made a large withdrawal and got his credentials. Then they went to buy their marriage license and get lunch.

“When you buy your suit, would you get a navy blue one?”

“Aren't you going with me?”

“No, I have to get my wedding dress and shoes. You can't be with me for that and you may as well use the time to get what you're going to wear. Don't forget to get dress shoes and dark socks. Where do you want to meet later?”

“Let's meet at the main entrance to The Met on 82nd. I have some other things I want to take care of.”

“Okay,” she agreed and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth. He grabbed her waist and kissed her back more thoroughly.

“Don't get lost,” he told her with a slightly worried expression. “I've only just found you.”

“I won't get lost. New York is set up very logically, for the most part, and I have my phone. _You_ don't get lost.”

“I won't. I'm not Apparating anywhere. I promise to stick to walking and taxis.”

After she left, he found a menswear shop, bought a blue suit and a cream-coloured dress shirt, and asked the clerk for the nearest shoe store, where he picked up dress shoes and navy socks. Then he went to the Portkey Authority in the American Secretary of Magic office, paid and arranged for a Portkey and for Iris's belongings to be shipped to England. He debated about sending word to his family that he was safe and about to return home, but decided against it, hoping his mum's clock would report his condition as something innocuous like 'travelling'.

He returned to Commerce Alley and ordered Iris a traditional bonding bouquet to be delivered to her motel room. Then he stopped by the jewellers to look at engagement rings. They were frightfully expensive and he wasn't sure what Iris would want. Charlie decided to let her pick out her own ring when they came back to choose wedding bands.

Iris was already waiting for him on 82nd Street when he finished. She had with her a big bag which she wouldn't let him look in. “I'm just not supposed to see you _in_ your dress,” Charlie protested.

“I don't want to take any chances. Are you ready to go?”

“Not just yet. You need to choose your rings.”

“Do I have to have an engagement ring?” Iris asked once they were in the jewellery shop.

“No, you don't have to have one, but are you sure you don't want one?”

“It seems silly when we're only going to be engaged a few days.”

“All right.” To the jeweller, he said. “Just the wedding bands, then.”

The man drew a brass ring off his thumb and handed it to Charlie to slip on his left ring finger. He waved his wand and a tray of rings floated out of the back to settle on the counter. Then he handed the ring to Iris and repeated the process. After trying on (or failing to try on as some of the rings refused to go on her finger) every ring in the tray, Iris chose a plain silver band. It matched Charlie's gold band perfectly, but for the colour.

She paid for his and for the charm that would make it impervious to dragonfire out of what was left of the money she'd made by selling her car. Charlie handed the jeweller a bag of Galleons, but had to sign a promissory note for the rest. Iris's brow creased. When they left, she turned to him and asked why her ring had cost so much.

“Because, love, it's a platinum-mithril alloy. Precious metals don't get any more dear than that.”

“Why didn't you tell me? I don't have to have a ring that expensive.”

It took Charlie the entire trip back to the motel to convince her that she should have the ring she'd picked out. Iris insisted on walking from their motel to a nearby Indian restaurant, stopping to drop off the bag with her wedding dress in it at a dry cleaners that guaranteed one hour service according to the neon sign in the window. Charlie's gold band glinted on her thumb while her ring shone on his littlest finger. On their way back from tea, she picked up two opaque bags and a hatbox from the dry cleaner, which she still wouldn't let him look in.

“I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow. We still need to take my things to have them shipped. It seems like a waste of time and money to take a taxi back here to get changed.”

“We can dress for the wedding and take the lorry to the Portkey Authority. I've hired porters to carry your stuff so we don't have to get all sweaty doing it. I can cast a spell on my eyes so I won't see your dress,” he offered.

“What will you see instead? I won't be naked to you, will I? Because I can't see how that would end well at all.”

“It would end _very_ well, but no, I'll just see the parts of you not covered by your dress.”

“Okay. My dress is blue and vintage, so that covers something old and something blue. My shoes are new and a I have a penny, but I still need to borrow something.”

“It's supposed to be a sickle in your shoe, not a penny.”

“How could I fit a sickle in my shoe? Wouldn't it cut my foot?”

“No, a sickle is a coin that wizards use. I have one here.” He fished in his pocket and flipped a silver coin to her. “Won't that count for your something borrowed, too?”

“I don't want to borrow money for my wedding, even to fulfil the terms of a superstition. Maybe the city clerk will have something I can borrow. I will put this in my shoe though, instead of the penny.”

“It's not a superstition, it's part of the bonding ceremony.”

“The what?”

“The bonding ceremony. It's like a wizarding wedding. That something old, something new bit is one of the requirements along with the groom not seeing the bride in her dress until right before the ceremony.”

She frowned. “Our marriage will be legal in the magical world, won't it?”

“Of course it will. The Ministry of Magic observes reciprocity with the Muggle government. A bonding ceremony is a magical contract. Unlike Muggle marriages, it carries severe penalties for breaking it.”

“So, I'm guessing not many wizard marriages end in divorce.”

“No,” Charlie answered solemnly.

“I want to respect your traditions, but you have to tell me what they are.”

“There's not a lot else we can do. I've ordered you a traditional bonding bouquet to carry and all you have to do is borrow something. I'll have to sleep in the other bed tonight because we can't share a bed the night before the wedding.”

“Even though we've shared a bed for a whole month now?”

“No, it has something to do with the mingling of our energies.”

“I'm pregnant. I'd say our energies are well and truly mingled.”

He sighed. “Iris, as gratified as I am that not getting to sleep with me for one night is going to be that much of a hardship, let me point out that it's not going to be any easier for me. You make me feel as randy as a teenager.”

She blushed. “Are we coming back here after the ceremony?”

“We don't have to. I've reserved a room for us at the Franklin Inn in Commerce Alley. I thought I'd treat you to some wizard hospitality. That's all right, isn't it?” Even to his own ears, he sounded uncharacteristically uncertain.

“It's perfect,” she said with a smile. “We'll just have to take our overnight bags with us to the city clerk's office. I've been so focused on getting us here, that I didn't even think about the rings or flowers or doing something special for our wedding night.”

“We're only getting married once. I didn't want you to miss out on anything important if I could help it.”

Iris slept badly that night and woke to morning sickness. 

Charlie held her hair and rubbed her back while she was sick in the toilet. Finally she leaned back against the side of the bathtub. “All right now?” he asked her.

“Yeah. I'll probably be starving in half an hour. It was like that the other day. I'm going to take my shower. Could you go get me something from the breakfast bar in the lobby?”

“I can.” He kissed her forehead and left. When he returned, she'd showered and dressed in her underwear with one of her tee shirts on over it.

“They didn't have a whole lot left,” he apologised.

“This is fine.” She ate what she could and he finished the rest. 

They dressed in their wedding clothes and Charlie cast the promised spell on himself. He gave Iris the bouquet he'd ordered and pinned his boutonnière to the lapel of his suit. Then he directed her to the Bronx where the Secretary of Magic office was and she parked the lorry where he said, though the office was invisible to her. Charlie supervised the porters he'd hired to carry Iris's belongings. Then she drove the lorry to turn it in and they took a taxi to the city clerk's office.

There were only three other couples in line ahead of them. Iris fidgeted, moreso as their wait stretched.

“Are you having second thoughts?” asked Charlie.

“No. Well, not really. Just a slight case of cold feet.”

“It's not too late.”

“You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

He smiled. “That's good to hear.”

“Aren't you nervous?”

“About marrying you? Never. I'm only worried about taking you away from everything that's familiar to you.”

“If it becomes a problem, we'll deal with it together, won't we?”

Before he had a chance to answer the clerk called their names. Iris stood and fussed with her dress, providing Charlie with the distraction he needed to cover taking the spell off his eyes.

“Ready?”

Charlie stood there, completely gobsmacked. In his wildest fantasies, he never dreamed that his bride would be so stunning. For her wedding dress, Iris had chosen a pale blue dress that fell to an inch above her knees. She paired that with a short, cream-coloured jacket with sleeves that ended just below her elbows and wore matching gloves that buttoned at the wrist. On her feet she wore court shoes with the tiniest possible heels, in a cream colour that matched her jacket and gloves. She had coiled her rich, brown hair up and pinned a pillbox hat with a short net veil to it.

“Charlie?”

“Yes, Iris, I'm ready. In case I forget to say it later, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For choosing me. Let's go get married, shall we?” He held his arm out for her to take and she put her hand in the crook of his elbow.

The clerk's assistant lent Iris a lace-edged handkerchief and helpfully snapped a few photos with Iris's mobile phone. Charlie paid the fee for the ceremony and with a few short phrases and an exchange of rings, they were married.

A little more than a day later, they walked from Stoatshead Hill outside Ottery St. Catchpole to the Burrow.

“I still think you should have told your parents we got married.”

“Believe me, they're going to make enough of a fuss over my pitching up after being gone for almost a month. If I'd told them I was bringing my bride with me, Mum would have pulled together a reception and invited half the wizarding world.”

Iris paused at the gate, looking up at the Burrow apprehensively.

Charlie opened the gate for her and gently urged her forward with a hand on the small of her back. “It's going to be all right. The house isn't falling down, it just looks that way.”

“I wasn't thinking that,” she replied defensively.

“What are you so scared of, then?”

“What if they don't like me?”

“They're going to like you. They'll probably be a little surprised at first, but they'll see how happy we are and they'll be glad I found you.”

“Except I found you.”

“Then they'll be as glad as I am you decided to keep me.” During their conversation, he'd been carefully guiding her up the path and they'd arrived at the front door. He reached out and pulled the bell. Iris nervously twisted her fingers together in front of herself.

The door opened and a short, round woman with faded red hair grabbed Charlie and hauled him inside with a cry of joy.

“We've been _frantic_ , searching the length and breadth of England for you. When my clock said you were home, I sent George to _Romania_ to see if you'd gone back to the reserve. Where _have_ you been? What have you been _doing?_ Well, no matter now, you're here, and everyone is coming to tea tonight to celebrate your safe homecoming.”

“Mum, let a bloke get a word in edgewise, will you?” He reached back for Iris's hand and pulled her forward. “This is Iris, my wife.”

“Your wha—hem—wife?”

“Yes. Iris, my mum, Molly Weasley.”

Iris stuck out her hand, saying, “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Weasley.”

Molly shook the proffered hand, saying weakly, “Delighted, my dear.”

“Molly, is that Charlie?” came a male voice from somewhere further in the house.

“Yes, Arthur, and he's brought his wife with him,” she called over her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Molly, I could have sworn you said...” An older man with glasses walked through the doorway and stopped cold. What was left of his hair was the same faded red as Molly's. “Oh.”

“Dad, I'd like you to meet my wife, Iris. Iris, my father, Arthur.”

Mr. Weasley recovered faster than Molly had, extending his hand and saying, “Welcome to the family, Iris.”

“Thank you Mr. Weasley,” she replied with a relieved smile, shaking his hand.

“We're having tea in the back garden,” he said to Charlie. “Your brothers are here, go let them see you.”

“All of them?” Charlie asked with some surprise.

“Hm, no. Ron and Percy are still at work. It's just George and Bill, and Angelina and Fleur, of course. And Ginny and Audrey. Harry and Hermione will be along later.”

“Well, come on, Iris. I can't wait for Bill to tell me he told me so.” He put his arm around her waist and ushered her through the house and out the kitchen door.

“What do you mean he told you so?”

Charlie didn't have a chance to answer as a young woman with long, ginger hair fairly tackled him. “Where have you been, you muscle-bound pillock?”

“Ginny, such language! And in front of the children, too,” Charlie teased his sister.

“Oh you,” she growled, slapping his shoulder. “And who's this you've brought with you?”

“This is my wife, Iris.”

“You got married!?!” Ginny shrieked.

“Why don't you say it a little louder? I don't think they heard you in London. Yes, I got married. Everyone, this is my Iris. Iris, this hoyden is my sister, Ginny.”

Iris prepared for a round of handshaking, but Ginny ignored the outstretched hand to hug her new sister-in-law.

“I don't know why you agreed to take on my dragon-mad brother, but I'm glad someone finally did. Welcome to the family.”

“Thanks,” replied Iris dazedly, returning the hug.

Charlie was receiving his own rough hugs from a pair of red-headed men, one tall with long hair and one built very much like Charlie.

An athletic-looking woman with dark eyes, skin and braids smiled at Iris. “I'm Angelina Johnson-Weasley, George's wife,” she introduced herself, shaking hands.

“You're the one that plays some sport, I don't remember what Charlie called it.”

“Quidditch. You Yanks play Quodpot, right?”

“Oh no, I don't play any of those 'q' sports. I don't have any magic.”

“You're a squib?” Surprise registered on Angelina's face.

“Um, no? What was that word Charlie used? Oh right, Muggle. I'm a Muggle.”

“Weasley! You married a Muggle?!”

“The heart wants what the heart wants, Johnson,” he called back, winking at Iris.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Iris asked uncertainly.

“Not at all,” said a delicate brunette, holding a little girl on her hip. “I'm Audrey, Percy's wife. He's not here at the moment, but he'll be along later. I'm a Muggleborn. So is Ron's wife, Hermione.” She also shook hands with Iris.

“But you both have magic, even if your parents don't.”

“Well, yes, but it's not unheard-of for a wizard or witch to marry a Muggle. One of Molly's cousins married an accountant who's a Muggle, so it's not even unheard-of in this family. It's just that wizardfolk are rather insular and with the Statute of Secrecy, we're not supposed to tell Muggles about the magical world. Most mixed relationships don't make it that far when one partner is holding something big like that back from the other.”

“What are you telling Iris?” demanded Charlie, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“They're just reassuring me that I'm not as much of a freak as I'd feared.”

Audrey stiffened. “I am sure I implied no such thing.”

“I'm sorry, Audrey,” Iris backpedaled. “You were just trying to be nice to me, but I'm so nervous I could explode. It makes me say stupid things.”

The witch unbent slightly. “Well, of course you're nervous, meeting this lot all at once.”

“Oi, what does that mean?” asked the shorter of Charlie's brothers indignantly. This close, Iris could see he had subtle scarring on the side of his face and neck. His hair grew down past his collar, probably to partially hide the scars. “And we're not even all here.”

“Iris, my brother George,”said Charlie.

“Pleasure,” he said shaking her hand.

“Likewise,” she answered with a smile.

“And this is Bill, my older brother.”

He offered his hand cautiously. She shook it firmly, smiling directly into his heavily-scarred face. “Good to meet you.”

Bill returned her smile, the motion pulling his scars sideways, but still somehow brightening his expression.

“Charlie, you rogue. What do you mean passing zis child off as your wife?” scolded an exquisite blonde. Though her words seemed harsh, her tone was affectionate. “You 'ave to be fifteen years 'er senior!”

“Iris, this is my wife, Fleur,” Bill performed the introductions.

“And there's only ten years between us,” corrected Charlie, his ears red.

Instead of shaking hands, Fleur kissed Iris on both cheeks and Iris returned the gesture only a little awkwardly.

“Pleased to meet you, Fleur.”

“Ze _plaisir_ ees all mine. I didn't think ze woman existed who could lure Charlie away from his dragons.”

“I didn't lure him anywhere,” Iris contradicted. “You're still going back to your job, right?” she asked Charlie.

“I don't know how I'm going to support us otherwise,” he smiled at her indulgently.

“Good,” she grinned back. “I haven't forgotten your promise to take me to Dracula's castle.”

“It must be love if you're taking her to that tourist trap,” said Audrey with a tight smile.

Iris's own smile faded as she glanced at Charlie. He put his arm around her waist. “I think it'll be fun to see it with someone who isn't jaded,” he said pointedly. “And she wasn't talking about Bran Castle. We're going to spend our honeymoon at Poenari Citadel.”

“Bill! George!” Mrs. Weasley called from the house. “Conjure us tables and chairs, please. Hermione and Percy will be here soon.”

“Should I see if there's anything I can do to help in the kitchen?” asked Iris.

“You can offer, but I'm sure Mum has it under control.”

“If nothing else, maybe I can set the table. That'll give you some time to reassure your brothers I'm not some scarlet woman who's ensnared you with my wicked ways.”

“Oh, you've ensnared me with your ways, all right, but only some of them are wicked.” He grasped her hand and brought it up to kiss her fingers. She ducked her head and blushed before making her escape.

Charlie turned to see three astonished looks and two smug smiles. “What?”

“Weasley, you've gone sappy,” said Angelina.

“Complete mush,” added George.

“I've only ever seen that look in your eye when you're talking about your dragons,” Ginny said.

“All of you 'ush,” frowned Fleur. “'e ees in love.”

“Didn't I tell you it would be like this? If you ever fell for someone, you'd fall fast and hard.”

“Yes, Bill,” Charlie sighed. “You told me so. Don't you have a table to conjure?”

Iris came back out of the Burrow a few minutes later, carrying a huge stack of plates and flatware

Charlie hurried over. “Let me--”

“I've got it. Just let me set them down.” While she'd been in the kitchen, George and Bill had conjured two long tables, complete with tablecloths and chairs.

“So you did get stuck setting the table?”

She grimaced. “Apparently everything needs magic to complete.”

“Let me help set the dishes out, at least.”

“Oh sure. I have to go back in to get glasses.” She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. He turned to watch her walk away and stood there staring until George transfigured a serviette into a glove and sent it to smack the back of his brother's head.

“Stop ogling her and set the table, you prat.”

“Shut it, Georgie. I seem to remember you forgetting your wedding vows halfway through repeating them back.” Still, he flicked his wand at the dishes, sending them spinning through the air to settle at each place. The silver paired up and marched down the table to fall into its proper place beside each plate.

“And very gratifying that was,” said Angelina, putting her arm around her husband and kissing his cheek.

The next time Iris returned from the kitchen, her face was pinched and pale. Charlie let her set the glasses down before he caught her in his arms. “What's wrong?” he asked her quietly. “Did Mum say something to you?”

“She asked about my family is all.”

“I'm sorry, love. I haven't had time to warn them...”

“No, it's okay,” she said. “Really. Don't make a fuss, please.”

“You're positive?”

She nodded. “Your mom said she was going to get a hand for me to put on her clock.”

“Well, you are part of the family now,” he said cautiously as he let her go. “Do you want a hand of your own on her clock?”

“Will it even work? You know, since I have no magic?”

“I have no idea, but if you object, you should speak up now.”

“I think it's a nice gesture on her part. We did give her a huge shock, showing up like that. She'd have every right to refuse to accept me into her family. Oh, and I met Hermione.”

“Don't tell me she upset you.”

“No, not really. She just has this aura of being the smartest person in the room. I don't guess she can help that any more than Fleur can help being the most beautiful person in the room, but it does make me feel somewhat inadequate.”

“It's true that Hermione is very smart and Fleur is very beautiful, but you're the one I fell in love with.”

“That's sweet, Charlie, and it does make me feel better.”

“But?”

“But I'm nothing special. I can't even do magic and that's baseline for this family.”

“No, what's baseline for this family is love and courage and you have both of those in abundance.”

Everyone else arrived soon after and there was another flurry of introductions met with expressions of surprise (Harry), shock (Percy) or outright disbelief (Ron). Ron commented that the whole family had been convinced that Charlie was a confirmed bachelor.

“I'm sorry,” said Iris, “is that code for you thought Charlie was gay?”

“No!” Ron protested, ears going red. “Well, maybe a little, but he's not, obviously.”

“Everyone go wash up!” Mrs. Weasley called out the back door. “There's soap, Ron, Ginny, George, Angelina, so use it!”

Iris and Charlie shared a chuckle. “Come on, there's a toilet upstairs. Everyone else will be crowded in the kitchen or the downstairs one.” He took her hand and pulled her up the uneven stairs.

“Thanks,” she said as he closed and locked the door behind them. “Your family is wonderful, but there's so many of them. My head is spinning.”

“Aw, and I thought I was the only thing that made you dizzy.”

“Well, you do that, certainly.” She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him.

He hummed his satisfaction into her mouth. “Sweet Merlin, I've been wanting to get you alone for over an hour now.” He pushed up her shirt and bra, letting her breasts bounce free.

“Charlie! We are not going to have sex in your parents' bathroom while your entire family is downstairs.”

“The hell we aren't.” He bent his head to capture one nipple in his mouth.

“Charlie—oh—don't,” she protested weakly. “What if someone catches us? I don't want to make a bad impression.”

“Nothing like a little _in flagrante delicto_ to convince Mum our marriage isn't a sham.” His fingers made short work of the button and zip on her jeans.

“She didn't say anything like that—mmm,” she moaned as he snaked his hand past the waistband of her knickers and slipped his fingers between her folds.

“No?” He started a fast rhythm that had her bucking helplessly against his hand.

“No, she said that we rushed into things—ohh--and implied that she disapproved by asking what my family thought. Not fair, Charlie,” she complained breathlessly.

“The faster you come, the quicker we can get back to tea with nobody the wiser.”

“What. About. You?” she panted.

“I'll get my satisfaction watching you come undone.” His other hand went to the back of her neck and he tilted her head to the side. “Come for me, Iris,” he urged. She shuddered at the sound of his low growl in her ear, but she needed a little something extra to take her over the edge. Charlie remembered what she'd told him the first time they'd made love and sank his teeth into the join of her neck and shoulder.

“Ah! Aahhh,” she moaned loudly as her quim contracted rapidly around his fingers.

There was a loud pounding on the bathroom door. “Charlie! Quit shagging your bride and get out of there!” George yelled through the door.

“We're newlyweds. We're supposed to shag,” Charlie called back, savouring Iris's aftershocks.

“Mum won't let us eat until you're there. You're the reason we're all here, you randy git. Rude of you to keep us waiting.”

“Oh my god,” Iris wailed, dropping her head to Charlie's shoulder. “I can't face them. Why did you do that? Why did I let you?”

“Relax. George is just teasing you.” He pulled his hand out of her knickers and sucked her juices off his fingers. “Aren't you, George?”

There was a heavy sigh on the other side of the door. “Yeah, just a bit of fun. Sorry, Iris. But Charlie, next time Imperturb the door to spare your bride's blushes, all right, mate?”

“Does that mean he heard...” Iris whispered.

“Yes, but if I know my brother, he was the only one. That spell he told me to cast from now on? He probably cast it for us somewhere further down the corridor, but then eavesdropped on us to get his timing right. Come on, wash up and let's get out there before anyone else misses us.”

Iris tidied her appearance as best she could, but there was no disguising the bite mark on her neck. “Even if George was the only one who heard us, they're all going to know what we were doing when they see this,” she complained.

“They're only going to know we were snogging and that George interrupted us, because if any of my family is ill-bred enough to ask, that's what I'll tell them. It'll explain your high colour and how my trousers got tight all of a sudden.”

She glanced down at the obvious bulge in the front of his denims. “Charlie--”

“Hush. I'm fine. It's not the first time my family's seen me with this problem and there were six of us boys growing up under this roof. We're well used to ignoring ill-timed erections. Let's go.”

George had vacated the corridor and Charlie guided Iris back down through the Burrow and out to the back garden. He glanced up at her when she slowed her steps. Her cheeks were bright pink and her gaze on her feet. “Come on, love. Show some of that American moxie.” She stood a little straighter and raised her chin slightly. “That's better. Let's make George squirm.”

Charlie led her to the table and pulled out the chair on George's right for her, so her love bite was staring his prankster brother in the face every time he turned his head to speak to her. Iris jabbed Charlie with her elbow when she realised he was pointedly stroking her shoulder with the hand that had been down her knickers. By the time Mrs. Weasley served the pudding, George was far less cocky than he had been.

Iris fielded questions from her new in-laws all evening, everything from how she met Charlie to what she did for a living to how a telephone worked. While she was doing her best to explain scientific concepts she barely understood herself, although not without some help from Hermione and Audrey, Mrs. Weasley caught Charlie's eye and nodded towards the kitchen door.

Charlie kissed Iris's temple and unwrapped his arm from her shoulders. Picking up their plates and flatware as an excuse, he followed his mother into the Burrow. He kicked the kitchen door shut and carried the plates to the sink. When he turned around his mother had her hands on her hips.

“Charles Septimus Weasley! What in Merlin's name did you think you were doing getting that poor Muggle girl pregnant? I know I raised you better than that! Have you _no_ self control whatsoever? Did you suddenly forget how to cast a contraceptive spell? And getting married in some havey-cavey, Muggle civil ceremony instead of a proper bonding ceremony! What this world is coming to, I'm sure I don't know!”

“Mum--”

But Molly had a full head of steam. There was no stopping her until she'd said her piece. “I don't even know whether or not to be relieved that you at least bothered to make an honest woman of her since she's barely more than a child! She's younger than your sister! And did I hear her correctly, her parents just died earlier this year? I never thought one of _my_ sons would ever take advantage of a woman when she was vulnerable like that!”

“Mum, I love her!” That checked Molly. “I was _made_ to be with her, I just didn't know it until we met in that parking lot. You said your clock said I was home. When was that? Three weeks ago, right after I disappeared? A week ago? I've been with Iris since a couple of hours after my Appartition accident. Home is where the heart is, but you're right that it wouldn't have mattered how I felt about her once she'd got pregnant. I had to marry her then--”

There was a soft gasp from the doorway. Iris stood there, her arms full of dirty plates, her face absolutely colourless but for her eyes. She took the three steps to cross from the door to the table and very carefully set her burden down.

“Iris, what you heard--”

She made a sharp gesture with one hand. “I told you you didn't have to marry me,” she said in a low voice that shook. “I told you I'd be fine on my own; that I can take care of myself.” Turning on her heel, she strode back down the corridor to the front door and snatched her purse off the hook where she'd hung it when she came in. She had the door open when he caught her wrist.

“Wait. You misunderstood--”

“Charlie, you let me go _right now_.”

“ _Listen_...”

She didn't turn around to face him. “No, you listen. I'm not going to warn you again. Let. Me. Go.”

“Iris...”

With a twist of the wrist he held, she broke his hold, spun and swung, landing a punch on his jaw that came all the way up from her toes and gathered her rage and pain with it along the way. Then she was out the door, slamming it behind her.

“Charlie!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked as he fell to the floor.

Charlie shook his head, trying to clear it, as his brothers gathered around him and pulled him to his feet. “Where's Iris?” he asked, though it sounded like 'ersh Irish?

“After she knocked you down, she ran out the door,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“'aff oo go affer 'er.”

Bill stood in front of him and held him back with a palm to the chest. “You let Mum patch you up. I'll go after her. I don't think Iris wants to see you right this moment, anyway.”

“Oo kee' your 'andsh off 'er.”

Bill laughed. “I told you it would be like that, didn't I? Of course, I didn't forsee that you'd fall for a woman that could lay you out with one punch.”

Charlie growled.

“Sounds like she's a perfect match for you,” Bill said as he walked out the door.

Charlie fumed, but stayed where he was. Molly pointed him to the armchair and got her wand out of her apron pocket. “I see my worries about you taking advantage of her were unfounded. Don't move,” she ordered when he tried to speak. “Do you want your jaw lopsided? You shouldn't have manhandled her like that.”

“Yeah, Charlie. Next time pick on someone your own size,” George snickered.

“That's enough from you, George,” said Molly sternly. “This is what comes of marrying an American. Rebellious and headstrong, the lot of them. Well, I suppose she's just what you needed, Charlie. It will take a strong willed woman to live with your stubborn self. Perhaps she can get you to come home more often. I don't like the idea of my grandchildren growing up in a foreign country.”

“Planning ahead already, Mum?” teased Ron.

“Merlin, you're thick, Ron,” said George with a grimace.

At Ron's blank expression, Percy explained, “Iris is pregnant.”

“What!? Did you tell everyone before I got here?”

“No, we didn't,” said Charlie, shifting his jaw back and forth. “How do all of you know?”

George shrugged. “Angie told me.”

“It was obvious,” said Percy with a shrug. “She has that glow, for one thing and Charlie, you wouldn't have married her otherwise.”

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” Charlie said in a dangerous voice. “I did not marry Iris because I got her pregnant. I married her because I love her. She is my wife. I'll not have anyone disparage her because she's young, because she's an American or because she's a Muggle.”

“Fine,” said Ron, turning and heading toward the back garden and practically mowing Ginny down on the way.

“Where are you going?” Molly asked.

“To get Hermione and go home. Charlie and Iris jumped the wand and are well ahead. Hermione and I have some catching up to do.”

“Harry and I are going home too, Mum. Charlie, congratulations. Iris is a lovely girl, and don't worry. No one will say anything disrespectful about her to me more than once. I haven't had the opportunity to cast a good Bat-Bogey Hex in a while.”

“Thanks, Gin. I'd better go see if Bill has found her.” He stood and headed for the door. Bill was talking to Iris just outside the garden gate. Charlie stepped off the porch and headed down the long path to the lane. He watched as Bill put his hands on Iris's shoulders and leaned in to speak earnestly to her. Charlie spun in place and Apparated the rest of the way down the path. “I thought I told you to keep your hands off her,” he snarled at Bill.

“Charlie, stop!” Iris shouted. “There's no point in playing the jealous husband now.”

“I'm still your husband, and my brother,” he spat, “needs to keep his hands to himself.”

“I'll leave you two to work this out between you, shall I?” Bill smirked, turning and Disapparating.

“That is so disconcerting,” Iris complained.

Charlie took a deep breath and pushed his jealousy aside. “Iris, would you tell me what you heard that upset you so?”

“You know what you said. You were there.”

“I said several things. Please, just humour me.” Merlin, he just wanted to take her in his arms and snog her until she stopped being angry with him, but he kept the gate between them. This situation called for a cooler head.

“I guess I ought to after punching you like that.”

“You hit hard, by the way. It was like a tail slap from a dragon.”

“Yeah, well, you have a hard jaw. I broke one of my fingers. Bill fixed it,” she said in a rush and stepped back when he reached for her across the gate.

“He shouldn't have. You're my wife. It's my job to take care of you.”

“Charlie, just give it up. I heard you tell your mom that the only reason you married me was because you got me pregnant and thanks for that, by the way. I thought we agreed not to tell them for another month.”

“Mum already knew. No wonder you were so upset if that was that all you heard.”

“Yes. What do you mean she knew?”

“She's been pregnant six times. She knows what a pregnant woman looks like. That's not the point. She just got done giving me the rough edge of her tongue over the fact that I was irresponsible enough to get you pregnant in the first place. You interrupted us before I could finish what I was saying. I was going to say once I'd got you sprogged up, I had to marry you and thank Merlin because I might not have realised that I loved you before I'd gone home otherwise. ”

She paused and then said quietly, “It takes two. I was inexperienced, not naïve.”

“I caught you in a weak moment.”

“The first time. After that, I don't have any excuses.”

“Well, neither do I other than the fact that I've never loved another woman the way I love you and I never will again.”

Iris wavered. Charlie could see she wanted to believe him—almost to the point of need.

“I've hurt you and for that I'm so sorry.”

“When I heard you telling your mom—what you told her, it was confirmation of my worst fears. I pinned all my hopes, my future, everything really, on you. On the idea that you loved me. I thought we were building our own family. I thought I belonged to someone again and that you belonged to me. I felt like such an idiot.”

“Iris--” Charlie stopped, hung his head and just breathed for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he looked up, opened the garden gate and stepped out. “I _do_ belong to you. You are my life now. I will quit my job, leave my family, move back to the States with you, snap my wand and live the rest of my life as a Muggle to be with you. Those should have been my wedding vows, not that apparently useless shite about honouring you and cherishing you for the rest of my life.”

Two tears rolled down her face. “You mean it?” she choked out.

For an answer, he pulled his wand out of its wrist sheath and took an end in either hand.

“No, don't!” Iris covered his hands with hers. “Don't break your wand. Don't quit your job or turn your back on your family.”

“All right. Where do you want to live in the States? Do you want to go back to Cleveland?”

“You don't have to move to America. I'll go to Romania with you.”

“I don't want you to give up everything for me,” he said, sliding his wand back into its sheath.

“I won't. You _are_ going to figure out how to make my computer work at the reserve, and you're going to get appliances I can use like a cookstove and a washer and a dryer.”

“All right,” he agreed, sliding his arms about her waist. “Anything else?”

“You're going to explain to me exactly what's involved in this bonding ceremony.”

“You mean it?”

“I'm not saying I'm going to go through with it. I just want to know about it.”

“All right,” he said again.

“I want to know all about this long struggle that gave so many of your family their scars and ended in Fred's death. I want to know what your part in it was.” She paused to kiss him. “And you're going to tell me all about Tonks.”

“How do you know about Tonks? No, never mind, I know. Bill told you.” He sighed. “Fine.”

“And you're going to get better at Apparition. I'm not having you drop in on anyone else while they're doing their shopping. I'll share you with your dragons, but you're mine, Charlie. Don't you ever forget that.”

“I won't,” he promised, finally giving in to his desire to snog her silly.

When they finally came up for air, she added, “You're going to take me to all the historical sites in Europe.”

“That's a long list of places.”

“Well, I'm sure there'll be a few I won't care to see, but you're right. Our itinerary is going to be packed.”

“Well, then I'd best get on that, don't you think? We have to go to the Ministry of Magic tomorrow to file your paperwork for legal alien status. I'll take you to the Tower of London in the afternoon.”

Her smile lit up his world. “I love you, Charlie Weasley.”

“And I love you, Iris Donovan-Weasley.”

“Just Iris Donovan. I'm not giving up my name for you. Our kids can be Donovan-Weasleys.”

“Kids, plural?” he asked hopefully.

“It's up for debate. Let's wait and see how rough this first one is on me. Oh! Look out!” Iris suddenly tried to pull out of Charlie's arms, staring over his shoulder in utter panic.

He turned to see what had alarmed her so. A ghostly bear sow charged toward them. “It's all right. That's just Mum's Patronus.”

“Charlie, are you staying or leaving?” it asked in Molly's voice before fading.

“What was that?”

“I told you, it was Mum's Patronus.” He waved toward the Burrow. “Come on, let's go say our goodbyes,” he said, opening the gate.

“You're going to explain all about magic to me, too. I'm not going to keep on making a fool of myself because I don't know what a Patronus is or that werewolves are real.”

“That, love, is a very big subject.”

“We have the rest of our lives.”

Charlie took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. She was right, after all.


End file.
